The Replacement
by themightyflea
Summary: Sherlock Holmes, famous and celebrated detective, heartbroken after the death of Irene Adler, falls for her deadly replacement. Angela, sent by Moriarty to seduce and capture Sherlock Holmes, finds that the feelings she'd thought were brutally trained out of her come rushing back any time the detective comes near her. First Fan Fiction. Please tell me what you think!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Angela was not what you would call a typical woman. She had been trained and conditioned for battle, as well as espionage, since she was only five years old. Now, the people that had made her this way expected compensation and that compensation came in the shape of missions. In fact, her current mission involved locating, seducing and ultimately capturing Sherlock Holmes. No easy feat, as anyone who'd ever tried it and failed could attest to. Originally this wasn't even meant to be her responsibility but, since Irene Adler had failed in her efforts she had been terminated and Angela had been sent in to take her place.

This wasn't going to be as easy for her, that much was clear. She'd been studying her mark for months now and she was almost certain that the only reason Irene Adler had gotten so close had been because Holmes had fallen for her. She couldn't let this stop her though, the penalty for not completing a mission was brutal and the people she worked for had made clear that this mission was of the utmost importance. She could still recall the first time she'd been punished for not completing a mission and the thought made her shiver with discomfort. Angela pushed the thought aside and concentrated on the task at hand. She'd learned her lesson, that's all that mattered.

Lifting the collar of her black wool coat and pulling it closer to her neck she started walking towards Baker Street. The plan was simple. She would approach her mark as a woman in desperate need of his services. She already knew Holmes wasn't easily impressed by women and didn't really want or need their company. However he did have an absurd weakness for complicated problems. This is what she would take advantage of. Still, she found she was uncertain of the outcome. She was used to this, to be sure, but Sherlock Holmes was a very different mark than the ones she was used to. Where the other ones had been bad men, and considerably less intelligent, she knew Sherlock Holmes to be a good man. Sure, he was detached, vain and described by most of the people who knew him as a mad genius, but he'd made the choice to work for justice. In her book, this put him quite a few notches above the people she worked with and against. If she was being honest it even put him a few notches above herself, but she didn't dwell on this. Her options were limited.

Upon reaching the door of his apartment she knocked three times and looked around. It was already quite dark and freezing but this was part of the story they's assigned to her. It took only a moment for someone to open the door for her, a respectable looking old woman whom she knew to be the landlady. Angela smiled and quickly introduced herself and stated her business.

"Good evening. I'm sorry to bother you so late but I'm here to s-"

The lady didn't even let her finish before she was pulling her inside.

"Oh my goodness, child!" Was all she heard as the old woman ushered her towards a room with a fire and two men seated opposite each other, one sitting back in his chair reading and one smoking a pipe with his eyes closed.

"You must be frozen solid!" Said the lady pushing a surprised Angela further into the room. "John could you please move so that she can sit near the fire? Thank you, dear."

Angela recognized John Watson as the doctor/military man that was also a colleague and dear friend to Sherlock Holmes. Angela gave him a quick once over before taking his seat near the fire. He certainly carried himself like a military man and he was neat right down to his house clothes.

"I assure you Mrs. Hudson that you needn't go through so much trouble." She smiled at Mrs. Hudson and turned apologetic eyes to John. "I'm terribly sorry for usurping your seat Doctor Watson. I'll just sit over there." Angela started to rise from her seat but both the Doctor and Mrs. Hudson protested in unison and she quickly sat back down suppressing a smile.

"I'll get you some tea." Mrs. Hudson announced and bustled out of the room. Angela watched her leave feeling slightly amused. Her missions, even the ones that involved months of playing a particular character, usually didn't involve such pleasant people as this Mrs. Hudson character. Shaking her head she turned to the man sitting in front of her. Sherlock Holmes was looking at her intently with sharp grey eyes. He was handsome, she thought, although not in any conventional way like the Doctor. He had dark wavy hair going grey at the temples, surely finger combed judging by its state of messiness, a square jaw with quite a bit of stubble and sparkling grey eyes. Clearing her throat lightly, Angela turned and addressed the man in front of her.

"Mr. Holmes, my name is Angela Boothe and I need your help." He looked at her a moment longer and then, relinquishing his pipe, he sat forward resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes fixed on her face.

"What seems to be the problem?" Was his reply and Angela launched into the story she'd practiced what felt like a million times.

"Well, there's this man-"

"There always is." Replied Holmes and when she paused he motioned for her to continue.

"Well, about two months ago this man visited my family home. He came to see my father and he stayed only for that one night. When he left, my father announced that I was to marry him in three months and that he would be living with us for the duration of that time. He returned a fortnight later and moved into a room adjacent to my own. Officially I met him the next day and...I knew instantly that I didn't like him."

"Why is that Miss Boothe?" Holmes had half closed his eyes as he was listening to her. Normally she'd think he was bored but, he was still looking at her, his eyes never leaving her face, so she knew differently.

Angela shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she felt the blood rush to her face. She felt warm all over, wether from the fire or something else she wasn't sure, but it troubled her that she was reacting this way at all. He would notice it too, she thought, she'd have to play it off as some other emotion. The corner of his mouth had quirked up when she'd blushed making her nervous but she fought herself for control over her sudden and completely unexpected rush of feeling.

"I don't know what it was." She continued. "Maybe that my father was always uneasy when he was around or maybe that my mother always left the room when he came in. I don't know."

Holmes nodded in response and Angela took it as a sign that she should go on with her story.

"Less than a month ago my father died..." Here she paused for effect.

"I'm sorry." Holmes murmured softly. Angela lifted her eyes, curious to see his expression. His eyes had softened and he'd lowered his hands from their previous position against his mouth. He was sympathizing with her and for a moment Angela felt glad that her performance was having the desired effect before she was overcome by a twinge of guilt she hadn't felt in a long time.

"It's alright, I wasn't as attached to my father as a daughter ought to be. But thank you." She lowered her eyes, pretending to compose herself.

"He died in the most peculiar way, you see. This man, Collins, was the one who found him. He was lying facedown in a puddle of mud wearing his sleeping gown and his house coat. It was as if he'd been taking a walk during the night, which he never did as far as I knew. The police came and a doctor determined he had most likely died of a heart attack. My father was quite large...so it seemed like a plausible scenario. A few days later my only brother was found dead in his room, this time by my mother. My brother was, if possible, larger than my father and the doctor concluded he had also died of a heart attack. Most likely, anyway." Angela stopped and sighed. This was the point in the story where she had to play the victim. She had to make Holmes believe that she was truly in danger.

Angela opened her mouth to speak but before any sound came out Sherlock sprung out of his chair and started to pace the length of the room. Immediately she noticed his height and build, he was quite tall and incredibly fit.

"What date is the wedding set for?" He asked and she chanced a look at the Doctor who was eyeing Holmes curiously, as if he detected something in his friend he hadn't seen before. She turned her eyes to Holmes who had stopped pacing and was looking at her expectantly.

"A fortnight from tonight." She replied simply.

"You suspect that this man Collins is to blame for both of these deaths and, naturally, do not wish to marry him." When she nodded in reply he chuckled.

"This is a most extraordinary case!" He said loudly. "What do you think Watson?" Holmes turned to the Doctor who nodded his agreement still looking a bit perplexed.

Turning on his heel he stood in front of Angela and cocked his head to the side.

"Now tell me, Miss Boothe, how long have you been working for Professor Moriarty?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was a few minutes before Angela could gather her scattered wits and grasp what he was saying.

"I am sure, Mr. Holmes, that I don't know what you're talking about. I don't work, I've never had to." She took a deep breath and expelled it. "Will you help me or not?"

Sherlock had retrieved his pipe and continued his pacing. Mrs. Hudson opened the door a second later and placed three cups of tea and some food on a small table for them to share.

"I will help you but not in the way that you think." He had stopped now in front of her and was looking at her with what appeared like determination in his eyes. Angela was tempted to look away but didn't and was rewarded by a pleased nod of his head and a smirk. The Doctor had apparently had enough of his friend's cryptic dialogue and decided to speak up.

"Holmes, what's going on? You're acting even stranger than usual." He'd come to sit in the chair opposite Angela, where the detective had been sitting only moments before, and was looking intently at the two of them. Abruptly Holmes turned and continued his pacing.

"Before Irene died", he paused, "she told me that Moriarty might send someone for me in her place. She didn't know exactly who that might be at the moment but she suspected it might be a girl that had been captured and trained for precisely this sort of...operation. Am I right in my suspicion that the girl she was referring to is you?" With this he turned to look at her and Angela could feel the blood leaving her face. She would be punished for this. It didn't matter that it had been Irene who had revealed their plans, this mission was her responsibility now and it was blown.

"I..." She sighed sinking into her chair. "What gave me away?" She asked quietly because she knew this man and she wouldn't be able to fool him if he already knew so much. If Irene had told him about her then he knew what to look for in the people that approached him. And he was brilliant, she had to concede it. She sighed once more and sank further into her chair.

"You're good. Excellent, even. I daresay I would've fallen for all of it had Irene not mentioned anything to me. But she did and so, here we are. You're clothes are brand new, so are your shoes, your purse and your coat. They've been worn for the first time tonight. They gave you away. I will help you though." He went to his bookcase and pulled out a book. Angela blushed as she realized her mistake. He was right, it was a stupid and obvious mistake, but she couldn't dwell on that. Her orders had been to capture him alive and now that wasn't an option. There were two men here and she had no way to subdue them for very long unless she killed them. Even if she did have a way to subdue them, Holmes was too heavy for her to carry by herself. The plan had only just begun and already she'd failed.

"Mr. Holmes what makes you think I need help? I assure you I do not. As a matter of fact, I would say it is the other way around." Angela looked at him then, dropping her innocent girl in trouble act. He looked at her briefly but continued his search.

Angela stood to leave already resigned to what was sure to be severe punishment. They didn't like to damage her body or her face so it took a certain amount of creativity to torture her and she'd been witness to the fact that they were not lacking in creativity. The Doctor sat stunned in his chair and regarded her closely as she gathered her things when all at once his expression turned to pity.

"How old were you when they started training you?" She wanted beat the Doctor senseless for asking such a personal question but refrained from doing so.

"That is no concern of yours." She snapped. "I don't need help. I don't need to be saved. What I needed was to finish this mission and I failed." She sighed and having gathered her purse she realized there was nothing else she'd brought with her and so she turned to leave once more.

"Ah! Here it is! If you wish to escape the Professor visit this address three nights from now. They'll help you." Holmes handed her a piece of paper with an address that he'd pulled from one of the books on the bookshelves that lined the room. She took the paper and just barely kept from throwing it back in his face. This man was insane if he thought that anyone escaped the Professor and lived to tell the tale. What did he think had happened to Irene?

"I'll be sure to do that if I survive the night. Thank you Mr. Holmes." The moment she said it she regretted it. Although she was going for sarcasm, it sounded like she was feeling sorry for herself and she hated that she sounded so weak. She had no idea why this man was trying to help her anyways, he was giving her a way out and from what she knew about this man, small kindnesses from him were few and far between. He looked momentarily disturbed by her remark and he frowned. It suddenly dawned on her that he was trying to make up for not being able to save Irene Adler.

"Holmes, maybe it would be best to play along until she is out of his reach?" Spoke the Doctor looking sympathetically at her, then back at his friend.

This was such a mess she thought to herself. She'd never failed so miserably in one mission before. She was the best operative Moriarty had. Even held the highest title she could possibly acquire within the organization, she was a Ghost. None of that changed anything about the present situation, however, so she was still deep in trouble.

"Perhaps it would be best-"

"No. Like I said, I don't need help. I failed my mission and I'll take the punishment I deserve." She replied soberly but couldn't help the next words that tumbled out of her mouth. "Why are you even trying to help me anyways? I was sent here to seduce and capture you!" At this last remark Holmes' expression changed to one of suppressed amusement.

"Seduce me?" Angela flushed once again and felt ridiculous. She had been trained -and had performed- every form of seduction known to man. Her eyes snapped up to his face and she could tell by the mischievous twinkle in his eye that he'd had the desired effect on her. She flushed a deeper shade of scarlet and abruptly turned for the door.

"Will you visit the address I gave you?" He asked grabbing her wrist in a firm hold. She turned to look at him and his face was concerned.

"No, I won't. Have you lost your mind Mr. Holmes? If I go there I'm dead for certain! You, better than anyone, know that no one is out of his reach." Was her exasperated reply. When he looked like he would make another attempt to convince her, she couldn't stop the next words that came out of her mouth. "I'm not Irene Adler for you to save so please let go of me."

He let go of her hand as if she'd burned him and she instantly regretted being so cruel. The truth was she didn't understand these people and their need to save her. She was the enemy. They were the enemy. Couldn't they see that?

Without sparing a glance for either of them she left 221B Baker Street and sprinted for her own rented apartment, anxious to leave this night behind altogether.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Back at Baker Street the Doctor sat as he'd sat for most of the encounter: stunned into silence. That young woman's last remark had been a low blow for Holmes. His friend stood rooted to the same spot he'd been standing in when the young lady had left. Truth be told Holmes hadn't been the same since Irene's death. Sure, he was still brilliant, but it was like he'd been subdued into normalcy and it didn't suit him. He hoped it wouldn't last long, maddening though he was when he was his usual self. He'd even thought he'd glimpsed a bit of Holmes' old self tonight but that had surely died out by now.

"Holmes? She didn't mean to be so cruel, you know that don't you? This girl needs our help, even if she can't see that right now."

"I know and she needs it tonight." He turned to look at his friend with a grave look on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'd like to save her the punishment she will most certainly receive because of us. Do you know who she is?"

"Angela was her name..."

"She's Moriarty's Ghost."

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" Asked the Doctor, a frown forming between his brows.

"She is his highest trained assassin." Said Holmes impatiently as he went back to his bookshelf to retrieve yet another book.

"Surely you've seen the Ghost mentioned in the newspapers? Whenever Moriarty needs to make a high profile kill he sends his Ghost to do the deed. The police are always baffled since she doesn't leave any clues behind for them to follow, the papers speculate about the possibilities and then...everyone moves on and the case never gets solved."

"That tiny little girl is the Ghost? I find that quite hard to believe!"

"But that's the idea isn't it? She looks so harmless!" He said excitedly, turning briefly to look at his friend. "They train her in every variation of combat, seduction and torture. They beat the emotions right out of her and they send her out into the world. Ah! Here it is! Read it yourself, old boy."

Holmes handed the book to Watson and sat back in his chair smoking his pipe. Though he knew the description he'd given Watson was correct he could recall the way her cheeks had flushed bright red when he'd looked at her. It'd given him a great deal of satisfaction to know that he could have such an effect on her but he suppressed it.

Instead he turned his thoughts to trying to figure out a way to help the girl. It wouldn't be easy. The life she was living was all she knew and it angered him that someone had made that choice for her. She was naturally bright and observant and could be a great tool if given the opportunity. The training they'd given her had sharpened her almost to his level. He still marveled at the way she'd read him while telling her story, taking clues from his behavior in order to make the story more appealing to him. She could do a lot for the side of justice and he was going to make sure she had the option.

"I can't believe that girl we saw has done all these things Holmes. Why would we even try to help her?" Asked the doctor, changing his mind about helping her after all. "She was right, she doesn't need help from us! She could've killed us both if she'd wanted to tonight!"

"Those weren't her orders and, I don't believe she wants to be doing this either. I want to give her the option, for once." Holmes stood up and shrugged on his coat. He would visit her tonight and explain it to her, give her the option. He was sure she wouldn't disappoint and he could tell she was desperate to escape that life.

"Watson?" His friend sighed but put his coat on as well and they both left 221B Baker Street in search of a Ghost.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Angela shut the door behind her and walked to her room cursing under her breath the entire way. She didn't yet know how she would explain this to the Professor but she knew that, no matter what, she would face severe punishment over it. She sighed, thinking there was nothing else she could do now except wait until she had to report back. Looking through the bathroom door she decided that a nice hot bath was in order and she began undressing herself, carefully pealing away her grey silk dress as she walked towards the tub. She uncoiled her long wavy hair while the tub filled with water and submerged herself slowly with a sigh when it was finished. Hot baths were heavily discouraged in the training facility since they tended to dry out her skin, but right now she was in so much trouble she didn't care if she broke this one rule.

Angela leaned her head against the edge of the tub and let her eyes drift closed as her thoughts floated back to Sherlock Holmes. He wasn't just handsome, she thought, the man had presence. Very different from the Doctor who was fair haired and blue eyed and handsome in a conventional way. He was also groomed, serious and respectful and you could tell that he is as kind as he is gentle, which she guessed was part of his appeal. Holmes on the other hand was disrespectful, narcissistic and messy, but he was a force. You could feel it when you were around him and it made him magnetic. She sighed as a crease developed between her brows. She had no idea where these thoughts had come from and, honestly, she didn't care for them right now.

There was a knock on the door and Angela nearly jumped out of her skin at the abrupt interruption. When the knock came again she dressed herself quickly in her nightgown and housecoat and walked quickly out of her room towards the front door. Pulling it open she was surprised to find the Doctor and the Detective standing on the other side of it.

"What is the meaning of this?" She half screamed and half whispered at them.

"May we come in, darling? It's incredibly cold out here." Sherlock asked as he grinned up at her. Irritated already she motioned for them to come inside and shut the door behind them.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

"We could use some tea, if you have it. Watson do you want anything?" He looked positively giddy as he turned to his friend, the Doctor, who had the decency of looking apologetic. She almost put Holmes in a stranglehold right then but refrained from doing so and instead walked to her kitchen and started to make some tea.

Angela could hear the men whispering in the other room but didn't bother to listen. This entire situation was insanity and she was ill equipped to deal with it. You would think that with her extensive training she could at least handle these two men but it was proving to be surprisingly challenging.

A few moments later she heard footsteps and a sigh as Holmes leaned against the door frame.

"Mr. Holmes why are you here?" She asked him as she turned around.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Same as you would know." She replied shrugging her shoulder daintily. "Why are you here?" She asked him again, schooling her features into an impassive stare.

"I'm here to give you a choice." He replied. "You don't want to be doing this, at least not for him. So, why not work for me? I meant it when I said you're good." He seemed sincere in his offer and she was tempted for the very first time in her life. He probably sensed her hesitation because he moved closer, all broad shoulders, tight muscles and grey eyes of one Sherlock Holmes. She swallowed.

"You don't have to decide right now, but I know what's waiting for you tomorrow and I'd like to help you." He was keeping his distance, careful not to crowd her, but she still felt like he was standing too close for comfort.

"I can't do that." She whispered and wondered vaguely where her voice had gone. Her mind was reeling with new possibilities now but she didn't dare to hope. She had done too many horrible, unspeakable things to turn it all around now and she wasn't sure that he could help her erase any of that.

"You can do it, Angela, and you can stay with me and Watson in the meantime. I know that's not the ideal situation for a respectable young woman but-"

"But that's not what I am. Is that what you were going to say?" She openly glared at him now, but she also knew he was probably right.

"No, it wasn't." He tried to suppress a smile but failed. "I meant to say that you didn't have any other options. But you are correct, I might've said something like that in the past if I found it to be true." His smile had died out and was replaced by an earnest look.

Angela shifted under his gaze as she recognized hope and sincerity but also a merciless scrutiny in his eyes. Suddenly she could feel herself reacting to the way he was looking at her and she flushed from her face to her toes.

"Give me a few minutes." Came her husky reply.

Holmes' mouth quirked up, and he bowed his head in assent before leaving the room. There was more whispering between him and the Doctor back inside the sitting room, but she ignored it once again. This wasn't the first time she was approached by an enemy and asked to switch sides, but it was the first time she was tempted. For the longest time she'd felt hollow, like an empty shell, and now was filled with a feeling she didn't recognize. Hope, she thought. She knew she'd done things, dreadful things, and Sherlock was offering her a way to make up for them. She didn't expect that this option came without a price but her mind was made up. Taking the tea with her she walked back to where the men were seated and set it down on the table in front of them.

"Alright, Mr. Holmes. I'll do this." She said. "What are your terms?" She asked the question looking directly at Holmes who was momentarily confused by her question. He caught the meaning quickly however, and his expression turned to one of irritation and pity.

"You come on your own terms, darling, and you're free to leave anytime you want." His look was stern but she could feel the compassion in his voice. Embarrassed, Angela's eyes shifted briefly to the Doctor before she nodded in reply.

"I will get dressed." She said finally and with that she left the room and the men to themselves.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"What did she mean by that question?" Asked Watson once Angela was out of earshot. Holmes gave him an exasperated look and stood to pace around the room.

"I'd think even you could deduce the answer to that question Watson." He stopped to look at the few objects set out on a table by the window and frowned as he thought about Angela's question himself. He didn't consider himself the type of man who appeared to require those kinds of things but he suspected Angela had dealt with more than her share of unsavory fellows and they'd probably set "terms" for her.

"That's awful." Replied Watson as he caught the meaning of her question, his face mirroring Holmes' feelings.

"Hm." Holmes agreed as he continued to pace the room.

Moments later Angela emerged from her room dressed in the clothes she'd been wearing earlier plus a small carpet bag. Holmes stopped his pacing as he was once again momentarily disarmed by her. He had to concede that she was beautiful, but there was also something about her that made him want to take down his walls and let her in based purely on instinct. He knew she was dangerous, like a caged tiger, but that only served to increase her appeal. He frowned as he realized the direction his thoughts had taken.

Sherlock Holmes was not the kind of man who had these kinds of thoughts, as anyone who knew him for more than a day could attest to. Irene had been his one exception and he'd often suspected that their relationship, if he could call it that, was based purely on the exchange of mutual benefits: neither one of them wanted to be alone, but neither one could tolerate a partner. What he was beginning to feel for Angela was something else entirely, it felt unknown and dangerous and he wasn't sure he wanted to go down that road.

"Right. We should go then." He said finally and clearing his throat Holmes headed for the door without waiting for either of them to follow. There was a new spring in his step and a sparkle in his eye. This is exactly what he'd needed all this time. Sitting around, solving petty crimes every now and then, waiting for Moriarty to make his next move had been no way to live. At least not for him. Angela could provide brand new information, but he would have to move quickly before Moriarty realized she'd switched sides and changed his plans.

Holmes looked over his shoulder to find that the Doctor was already making conversation with Angela and he suppressed the twinge of envy that rose up in his chest. It was just as well, he thought, since he didn't feel like talking much either way. The thought almost stopped him altogether. He didn't know when it had happened but he'd suddenly gotten tired of the sound of his voice. He chuckled to himself as he thought he'd have to work on that or soon there'd be none of the real Sherlock Holmes left.

Watson, on the other hand, was becoming increasingly confused as he pondered the nights' events. For one thing he'd never known his friend to be so preoccupied with any woman other than Irene Adler, and even that he suspected had been because he had always considered her to be his equal. He was glad, however, that Angela seemed to be drawing him out of his most recent mood. Up until then his depression had only surfaced during periods of time when he didn't have anything to work on and his mind had no problems to solve. This time though, he'd had plenty of work but he'd just been going through the motions. He'd been like a ghost of his former self and it had worried Watson immensely.

Angela was beautiful, he thought, and graceful when she moved like a dancer. She was also quite sharp and in many ways she resembled Irene Adler. Where Adler had been dangerous though, Angela was deadly and where Adler had been beautiful, Angela was disarming. It made her an incredible tool and he was glad she'd chosen to join them although he was still wary of her motives.

They reached the house quickly and arrangements were made for Angela to stay for a short time. Mrs. Hudson had insisted she take the bedroom next to her own in order to maintain some semblance of respectability. Angela had found this amusing but didn't protest, and neither did the two men who'd looked uncomfortable when Mrs. Hudson had mentioned it.

After she was settled, Angela wandered back to the sitting room where'd she'd first met the men but found neither them in it. She contemplated going back to her room but decided instead to browse through the books in the shelves for something to read. There were plenty of books but not many options that were purely for entertainment. Just when she was about to give up her search she found one by Edgar Allan Poe and retrieved it with a smile.

"Finally." Angela sighed contentedly as she settled in near the fire to read. For the first time in a long time she felt safe, she thought, and if only for that one night, she could lose herself in a life not her own and forget the ghosts of her past.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Holmes flipped on his side for what felt like the hundredth time. He couldn't sleep. Watson had convinced him to let Angela rest and approach her the next day about what she knew. His mind, however, so accustomed to working non-stop when presented with a problem, wouldn't let him rest. Finally realizing that sleep wasn't coming for him any time soon he shrugged on his tattered housecoat and headed for the sitting room in search of his pipe.

The room was warm when he entered, signaling that the fire had been stoked recently, although by whom he wasn't sure. He frowned and moving towards the mantlepiece above the fireplace he stumbled upon a sleeping Angela. Holmes hesitated, debating wether or not he should wake her up, but decided instead to occupy the seat in front of her and observe her, if only for a few minutes.

She looked quite young while she slept. She was perhaps in her early twenties, he thought, but sleeping she looked so much younger. Her hair was loose and fanned out around her and her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the fire. Her skin was flawless and he wondered at the kind of punishment one could receive that didn't involve physical trauma. Whatever it was, it was certainly nothing he ever wanted to experience for himself. The fact that Angela had endured such punishment was a testament to her strength and that fact alone was enough to increase his admiration for her. Again he debated wether or not he should wake her up so that she could go to her own comfortable bed, but he decided there was really no reason why he should and he stood to leave.

"Please...don't." Angela whispered so quietly that Sherlock wasn't sure he'd even heard it. Turning he found Angela still asleep, her brow furrowed and tension lines on each side of her mouth.

He paused, shaken by the sudden wave of tenderness that overcame him. It was so unlike him, and had caught him so completely off guard that he stumbled a step back. Before he was aware of what he was doing, he had taken a step forward and his hand reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. What happened next would have been difficult for him to explain but incredibly humorous to any bystanders who happened to witness it.

Angela's instinct awakened before she did and in one breath Sherlock was thrown on the floor and had a dagger placed lightly against his throat. Sherlock had considerable fighting skills himself but he'd barely had time to react before she had overtaken him.

Realizing her mistake, Angela widened her eyes and moved off of him apologizing profusely the whole time which served to dissolve some of his own shock.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you." He said composing himself. The words were barely out of his mouth before an unexpected fit of laughter claimed him and he turned on his side until it subsided. If only she knew how completely out of character he was behaving she would be worried. Indeed he'd noticed Watson was eyeing him earlier with some concern but had shut down any attempts on his part to question him.

"Mr. Holmes? You're behaving a tad out of character." Angela commented, sheathing her knife and taking her seat once more peering curiously at Sherlock.

"How would you know what is or is not out of character for me, hm?" Holmes replied taking the seat opposite her keeping a slight smile on his face. He leaned back into the chair and half closed his eyes as he began to observe her once more.

"I did my homework, of course." Replied Angela picking up the book that she'd been reading and placing it lightly on the table beside her. She leaned back into her own chair and sighed. He was watching her and it made her nervous though she didn't know why that should be the case. Angela was used to being observed and because of it she had trained herself to become unreadable, but Sherlock was different and she had to concentrate in order to maintain her composure.

"Your homework." He replied cryptically. "And what did you learn about me?" He cocked his head to the side as he waited for her reply, peering at her with sparkling grey eyes. Angela realized that he was testing her, looking for her tell. She knew then that he didn't trust her yet, and she thought that he was probably right not to.

"You know what I'm doing don't you?" Holmes asked curiously.

"I do." She replied nodding once. "But you will not succeed. At least not tonight. I am too trained to lie and even if I wanted to give you an honest response or, at the very least, an honest reaction..." She trailed off. "I just don't think I have it in me." Angela finished honestly. It would take time, and lots of it, in order for her to become normal, she thought, and she sighed once more.

Sherlock leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees and his folded hands against his lips. His sharp grey eyes darkened as he took in every inch of her and her body responding in much the same way it had done earlier that night. Her cheeks felt flushed and her heartbeat had quickened its pace. She stopped breathing altogether as she realized it was coming in faster than it was before.

Getting a hold of herself, Angela let out a long breath and Sherlock's mouth quirked up on one side, a satisfied look on his face. She just didn't know what was happening to her. At the training facility they trained her to be cold, unfeeling and unaffected by anyone or anything. So many men had looked at her and never had any of them had this effect on her, and certainly not this immediate effect.

Closing her eyes she cleared her mind and focused on ways she could make him feel the same way. The moment she opened them back up she found him staring at her intently, his cocky, lopsided smile replaced by a grim line.

"What you're thinking about doing. Don't."

"What am I thinking about doing?" She asked leaning forward, her eyes locking on his.

"It won't work." He said lowering his hands and giving her a small smile.

"Why not?" She replied, but he just looked at her without answering and after minutes of staring into each other's eyes, one trying to read the other, Angela knew the answer wasn't coming at all. She stood up to leave, walking slowly towards the door.

Holmes followed close behind her, his brow creased like he was concentrating very hard. Before Angela could walk out the door Sherlock grabbed her wrist and pulled her so close she could feel his stubble on neck and his breath on her ear making her shiver against him, her heartbeat quickening and her breathing becoming ragged.

"Angela," he whispered hotly, "it won't work because seeing your honest reaction to being near me is much more intoxicating than anything they could have possibly trained you to do." With that Holmes let go of her wrist, and taking a few steps back he turned on his heel and walked back to his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Angela debated wether or not she should kill him right then and there, to save herself the embarrassment of ever having to look into his face again. The way he made her feel, she'd never felt that before. It made her curious as to everything else she'd been missing out on. Turning for her room she made a resolution to catch up on all that she'd been missing because of the years she'd spent in the training facility.

As she drifted off to sleep that night she thought there was at least one thing she was sure that she knew about herself: she was not immune to Sherlock Holmes.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 8

_Angela was fourteen years old. _

_She was sitting on a park bench waiting for the Professor who'd asked her to meet him there at precisely two o'clock. Her eyes scanned the people walking by her, taking in every detail and every gesture, the way she was trained to do. _

"_Good afternoon, child." Said the Professor upon arrival and Angela lifted her eyes to look at him. He was smiling at her but there was no smile on her face answering his. She could almost believe she'd never learned how to smile in the first place but she knew that couldn't possibly be true._

_The Professor sat next to her on the bench and pulled out a small bag of bird feed from the outside pocket of his coat. This was an enduring habit of his that she couldn't quite understand, but then most people had habits she couldn't understand._

"_I've asked you here for a reason, of course." He said throwing the feed on the ground in front of him. _

"_Yes. I read your letter." Angela replied as she returned her eyes to the people in the park._

"_I've been told you've been making friends in the facility." Said the Professor lightly, but the hairs on the back of Angela's neck prickled as she picked up an undercurrent of disapproval hidden beneath the words._

"_I don't think I know what a friend is, Professor." She replied keeping her tone even. The Professor chuckled and sighed._

"_Do you see that couple over there?" He asked her, gesturing to a couple that was some feet ahead of them._

"_Yes."_

"_Do you recognize them?" He asked peering at her with hard blue eyes and Angela turned her attention to the couple fully. She found she did recognize them, they were what the Professor had referred to as her friends, from the facility. Uneasiness snaked through her as she wondered what they were doing out of the facility and walking through this particular park in the first place._

"_I do." She replied uncertainly. The Professor turned and nodded almost imperceptibly at the couple. As soon as he did, both of her friends pulled out knives that they'd apparently concealed inside their coats and attempted to stab each other. Angela suppressed the urge to scream and instead looked at the Professor, who'd continued feeding the birds._

"_Keep watching." He said without looking at her and she turned to look at them once more. They'd succeeded in stabbing each other and both of them lay on the floor as a crowd of people, some screaming, some horrified into silence, gathered about them and the growing pool of blood._

"_I don't understand the point of this exercise, Professor. We've just lost two promising agents!" Angela replied, struggling to keep all emotion from her voice. She didn't have a clue about what being a "friend" entailed but the late night talks and sparring matches she'd shared with these two people had been the closest she'd come to actually feeling anything in the fourteen years she'd lived._

"_The point," he said, his previously friendly demeanor evaporating completely, "is that there is no such thing as a friend in the facility. Those two weren't just friends, they were also lovers, and neither of them hesitated in killing the other."_

_Angela's mouth dropped open as she realized exactly what had just happened. Two people who'd seemingly loved each other didn't hesitate in taking the other's life. _

"_Let this be a lesson to you, Angela, because if you don't learn the lesson now by example, I will make sure you learn it through practice." He leaned back to look at her. Angela nodded once, to signal she understood, but she felt hollow as the Professor's words sank in. Seemingly satisfied that she'd learned her lesson the Professor stood and left her sitting on the bench. Angela leaned back in her chair and tried to gather her scattered thoughts. If this was love, she thought, why did people bother with it at all when, in the end, it only made the death wound all the more painful._

Sherlock opened his eyes the next morning and sprang up to a sitting position as he realized he'd actually slept. This was certainly unacceptable, he thought, and he quickly donned his house coat before racing out of his room to look for Doctor Watson and Angela. Entering the sitting room he found them breaking their fast with Mrs. Hudson and having a good time too. They turned their heads at the same time to look at him.

"Good morning." He greeted, tucking his hands behind his back and heading for the slipper on the mantlepiece where he kept his tobacco.

"Good God Holmes! Were you sleeping?" Watson greeted in return.

Watson, he thought, looked more surprised than he ought to have been but he ignored him and lit his pipe instead. He started his pacing as he thought about where they should begin that day. There was a lot to be done, a lot to be investigated and already they were behind because he, of all people, had decided to sleep.

"You actually look rested! Doesn't he look rested Mrs. Hudson?" Watson turned to look at the landlady. Sherlock turned to look at her as well and noticing her gaping mouth he almost laughed out loud.

"H-he does. Doctor, I'm frightened!" Holmes was almost annoyed until he caught her mischievous sparkling eyes.

Turning on his heel he decided instead to focus on Angela who was taking in the whole scenario with an amused look plastered on her face. It was as if she could feel his eyes on her because the minute he looked in her direction she shifted in her seat to face him. It was truly remarkable the way she reacted to him and he found himself wanting to provoke her all the time. He'd have to give some thought as to why that was, but another time.

Already he was regretting his remark to Angela the night before but truly, seeing the effect he had on her had driven him almost to the brink. It had never been like that with Irene. There'd been something like passion, sure, but it was measured, calculated. He'd even go as far as saying it'd been a farce they'd both agreed to in order to ease the loneliness.

With Angela it was a different matter altogether. He'd never felt for anyone the things he was feeling for her. It certainly wasn't love, he thought, but he respected her and he admired her courage and decisiveness. Being near her, though, was out of the question. She made him lose his control and that was something he could not allow to happen. Especially not now. Pushing these thoughts aside to think about at a later date he placed the problem at hand and ignored everything else.

Pacing the length of the room he began to apply his methods to the little facts he'd gathered and soon enough the three of them returned to their conversation and breakfast. He'd have to wait until they were done to question Angela about what she knew and it made him impatient, but he realized there wasn't much else he could do at the moment. He appreciated the fact that they didn't venture any more questions his way and slowly he found himself falling into his natural process. It felt like ages since he'd last had a problem that required him to do this and he was grateful for Angela once more.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Angela was having a good time. She'd never had the experience of talking while having breakfast since she always ate alone in her room at the facility but this was definitely more entertaining. She hoped she could repeat it every morning she stayed there but she wasn't sure it was customary to do so. Suddenly curious, she decided to ask.

"Is it always like this? In the mornings, I mean." Both Mrs. Hudson and the Doctor looked at her with a mixture of surprise and pity that made her cheeks go red.

"Yes dear, of course!" Replied Mrs. Hudson surprised. "Although usually we don't have the pleasure of Holmes' company, you know." Mrs. Hudson added in a whisper and Angela glanced over to where Sherlock was pacing curious to see if he'd heard. He hadn't. He looked lost in thought as he walked quickly from one side of the room to the other, pulling frantically from his pipe.

"Well, I'm glad it is then. I've never done this before!" Replied Angela happily and continued sipping her tea.

"Dear me, child! How's that possible? Not even with your parents, or a nanny perhaps?" Angela wasn't surprised by Mrs. Hudson's question. She'd come to realize that she was completely alien to the world around her in terms of what was the accepted social etiquette.

"I guess you could say I didn't have a normal upbringing, but I'm glad I get to do it now." Pity flashed in Mrs. Hudson's eyes but she masked it quickly with determination and placed a wrinkled hand on hers before she stood up.

"Well dear, I will certainly make sure you get to experience a little bit of what family life is usually like while you stay here." She patted Angela's hand once more before bustling out of the room with the tray full of empty cups and plates. Angela sighed contentedly as she leaned back in her chair and trained her eyes on the detective. She noticed Watson doing the same with a satisfied look on his face.

"He was different when she was gone, wasn't he?" She ventured the question, not sure how Watson would react but sure that his thoughts ran along that line.

"Yes, he was. Quite different." He turned to face Angela and smiled. "It was almost as if he'd gone with her for a while." He finished frowning.

"He loved her." She said it as a statement, unsure about what she meant to say exactly. Truth was, Angela was unfamiliar with the concept herself, never having experienced anything like it in her life. All she knew about love was what she'd learned in the facility: it would get you killed, sooner or later.

"He thinks he did anyways." Was the Doctor's short reply.

"You don't think he loved her?" She asked curiously. All this time she'd come to believe that the only reason Holmes had ever warmed up had been because of his love for Irene, but now she had her doubts.

"I don't know what I think, but I am certain that she never loved him back"

"But she warned him about me."

"She knew she was about to die. I think she just wanted to do something right for him but deep down Adler was in love with one person and that person was herself." They both looked at Holmes who had continued his pacing, completely oblivious to their conversation.

"Some might say the same thing about Holmes, you know." Angela returned without taking her eyes off of the pacing, puffing detective.

"Then they'd be right." The Doctor chuckled picking up the day's newspaper and leaning back in his chair to read.

Angela sighed as she recognized anxiety moving through her. She had to report to the Professor that night and she had absolutely nothing to show for it. She'd have to come up with something soon but her options were extremely limited. Either she declared herself turned by not showing up at the place they'd agreed to meet or she went and kept her cover long enough for Holmes to hatch a plan. Knowing the detective, he wouldn't disappoint, though they still had a lot to go over and she had a lot to reveal.

Abandoning her chair she went to stand by the window overlooking the street. If she was being honest, she was inclined not to go to her meeting at all but she didn't feel right revealing her hand so soon.

Though she didn't realize it, what she was feeling was dread. She dreaded going back and facing a life she'd much rather pretend never happened. And she was scared that if she did go to the meeting she wouldn't be able to come back. She'd only known these people a day but there was hope of a new life with them and she was clinging desperately to that hope. Her thoughts were interrupted by clouds of sweet smelling tobacco floating near her.

"We annoyed Watson so much he decided to leave the room." Holmes stood by the window leaning on the wall and looking at her intently. Angela looked behind her and noticed for the first time the Doctor's empty chair.

"I didn't notice." She replied.

"I know. I've been standing behind you for some time and it was as if I was invisible." He chuckled. "It was interesting. That must be how people feel around me when I'm thinking about a problem." His lips twitched once but he schooled his features quickly.

"Must be." Now that she was aware he was near her she felt like he was standing too close. It wasn't that she was afraid of what she was feeling, she told herself, what she was afraid of was clouding her judgement. The problem at hand required that she, and everyone else involved, kept a clear head. She couldn't do that when he was around her. Clearing her throat she retreated from the window and sat in one of the chairs by the fireplace closing her eyes as the effects of Sherlock Holmes subsided.

"Coward." He said under his breath.

"Are you talking about yourself Mr. Holmes?" Angela asked lifting her brow.

"Not just me." He replied without turning to look at her.

"You're not suggesting-"

"Have you ever felt this way before?" He said cutting her off.

"No, but I-"

"Neither have I. I think I'd like to-"

"Can't this conversation-"

"Try to make it work, at least."

"Until we're finished with the task at hand?"

Angela had gotten up from her chair and Holmes had walked over to her. They were standing eye to eye when Watson walked back in to the room.

"Holmes, Mrs. Hudson wants to-Oh!" He stopped abruptly and both Angela and Sherlock turned to look at him, annoyed looks on their faces.

"I'll just come back later." Watson replied leaving the room.

"Holmes." She said finally. "This is all very new to me. Nothing like it has ever happened to me before and, if I give in to what I'm feeling I'm afraid it will end up hurting too much in the end."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to pressure you. I realize we barely know each other." he retorted and Angela lifted her brow inquisitively, "Well, in a manner of speaking and it's all new to me too, although I realize not in the same way. Let's put this conversation on hold. After we're done with the Professor we'll talk about this again, what do you say?"

Angela nodded her head an returned to her seat while Sherlock took the chair directly in front of her. They still had to discuss what she would do that night but there was still one thing that was bothering her.

"Holmes, there's one other thing."

"What?" He asked frowning.

"What I've done with other men, physically I mean...I don't know how to reconcile that with the way I feel." She sighed. "What I'm saying is that it will take some time before I will be able to do...that, again." She finished finally, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"I've been waiting 35 years for someone like you to come along. I think I can wait a bit longer?" He replied, a smile claiming his lips.

Angela smiled and leaned back into her chair thinking that maybe for the first time she'd be more to someone than just a ghost.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Angela had revealed quite a bit of information about Moriarty's plans, but even so she wasn't privy to all the information he required. She was a tool, after all, and she could be captured at any moment. Moriarty wasn't likely to put himself in such a vulnerable position. He'd have to wait until Angela had her meeting that night to proceed with his plans, that is if he could convince her to go at all.

"Angela, I think you should go to the meeting." He stated plainly. Being completely honest was probably the best way to go about it, they only had an hour before Angela had to leave for her meeting if she wanted to make it there on time.

"I thought you might say that." She gave him a small smile but didn't look at him for more than a second. She could already feel herself retreating behind her mask in preparation for what was going to happen that night.

"You needn't worry, you know. We'll be close by in case anything goes wrong." He said referring to Watson and himself.

"If you're nearby, he'll know." She said quietly.

"You shouldn't go alone. We can come with you and watch from a distance." He added as gently as he could. He could literally see her closing herself up.

"No." Oh, she was being stubborn.

"Angela, just cons-"

"I said no. If I have to go, I will go alone. He might have known that I would turn on him and be expecting you when I get there."

"Do you think I haven't considered that?" He snapped at her this time but quickly composed himself. Clearing his throat and lowering his voice he tried once again.

"Angela, I've already considered the possibility and it is a risk both Watson and I are willing to take."

"I know you have considered it but I also know you care nothing for yourself. You are important and I am not. If you lose me then all you lose is information. If the world loses you then who will fight the Professor?" Her eyes were intense as they looked into his and it broke his heart, if indeed it could be said that he had one, that she didn't consider herself important. Not for the first time it made him wonder what they'd done to her in order to break her so thoroughly.

"Very well. I won't coerce you." He said, forcing himself not to argue about it any further. "Will you at least tell me where and when the meeting will take place?" He asked innocently, but Angela raised her brow in question.

"If you give me your word that you won't follow me, then yes." She replied doubtfully.

"I give you my word." He said after a long pause but already he felt like he shouldn't have given up the argument so easily. She was being difficult and he felt compelled to fight over it.

Angela wrote the time and address on a piece of paper and left the room to get herself ready. She was suffocating in there and she was pretty sure it had nothing to do with her corset. She didn't want to go to this meeting but she couldn't avoid it, she knew it was their best option. Running her fingers through her long dark waves she leaned against the door she'd closed behind her and closed her eyes. He was insane if he thought she'd let him follow her and she was damned if she was going to let him win the argument. He was just too important.

Heaving a sigh she walked towards her room to draw herself a bath and get ready for her meeting. This was probably going to be a long night and she'd have to mentally prepare herself for the story she'd have to fabricate. Moriarty was just as hard to fool as Holmes and for that she'd need his help, but first things first. She needed a cold bath desperately and then she'd see about seeking Sherlock's help in making up a story they could all agree on. She only hoped she didn't make his ego even larger than it already was. She'd hate to have to beat it down to a smaller size.

Angela chuckled to herself as she closed her bedroom door behind her.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Half an hour before the meeting Angela came out of her room to meet Holmes and Watson in the sitting room. As per Sherlock's instructions she was wearing his clothes, right down to his petticoat, although she had no idea why. Upon entering the room she saw Holmes' eyes go up and down her body and she flushed. He lifted one brow in question but kept his mouth closed. Clearing her throat Angela walked further into the room.

"I am ready. Though I still don't understand why I am wearing men's clothes." She tucked her hands behind her and refrained from looking at the detective. She could still feel his eyes on her and it made her uncomfortably warm all over. Instead she looked at the doctor who'd decided to look away embarrassed and she completely understood why. You could see the entire shape of her body in these clothes. It didn't embarrass her the way it would other women but it would certainly upset a man as decent as Watson. Both the doctor and the detective stood up and donned their coats. Sherlock came over with an additional one and stood waiting for her to put her arms through the armholes which she did after some hesitation.

"You will change in the carriage. I won't be going with you but Watson here is, it will have to look like the two of us are going out so we will also need to cover your hair." With that he turned abruptly going into his room and came back with one of his hats. Angela made a high bun out of her hair and Holmes placed the hat on her, effectively keeping her hair inside. His fingers lingered on her neck after placing the hat on her and she closed her eyes as a shiver ran through her. All too soon his fingers were gone and he was backing away from her clearing his throat.

"Right then. Off you go."

"And when I get there with Watson in tow?"

"You'll be dropped a few blocks away and you'll walk. The reason we are dressing you up as me is so that if they are watching this house you will not be seen exiting it."

"I see. Holmes, I'm worried the Professor will see through this. What will I say?"

"That I believe your story and that everything is going according to the plan." He cocked his head to the side and peered at her through hooded eyes. He was reading her again and he frowned when he saw she was anxious.

"Right. I will have to go back to my apartment after the meeting."

"I will come and get you later tonight."

"I can't believe this is what I'm doing the night before my wedding." Watson muttered under his breath and both Angela and Sherlock turned to look at him. He sighed and dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

"It's fine!" He said. "But Sherlock, you will make this up to after we're done with this whole Moriarty business, yes?"

"Yes, of course!" Replied Sherlock, suppressing a smile.

"Now off with the two of you!" Sherlock exclaimed waving them both out.

Nodding her head once, Angela walked towards the door. She could do this, she thought, she'd done it a million times. It was only a matter of telling them what she'd already planned to tell them when she was confident she'd succeed in this mission. When she reached the door she adjusted the hat and the coat and looking over her shoulder one last time she turned and headed towards the carriage. What was troubling her wasn't her ability to lie, it was her ability to cope with the person she was and the person she wanted to become.

The ride wasn't very long but her mind was working at a furious pace the entire time. She went through all the possible scenarios in her head and what she would do if any of them arose. When they got to the place where they would drop her off she ventured a look at the doctor. He'd been quiet the entire time they'd ridden in the carriage. It had been a little uncomfortable while she changed but she'd managed to change without him ever seeing an inch of skin. Even so, she could tell he was embarrassed but did not want to say anything. He looked solemnly at her now and she could already tell what he was going to ask.

"You're sure you want to do this alone." If it had been Holmes she wouldn't have been able to lie convincingly but Watson was another story.

"I will be fine. I am sorry that I'm not very good company though." He smiled at her remark and dismissed it with his hand.

"It's quite alright. It's a lot like traveling with Holmes."

Chuckling, Angela moved to get out of the carriage when a thought hit her. She'd seen Holmes put his coat on even though he'd promised he wouldn't be coming with her. Realization hitting her, she looked back at Watson and placing the sweetest smile she could muster up on her face she left a message for when he went to pick up Holmes. Leaving a confused Watson behind she stepped out of the carriage into the cool night air and started a long walk towards the life she would soon leave behind.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Watson sat in the carriage outside 221B waiting for Holmes to arrive. He was still puzzled about Angela's message for Holmes but she'd assured him that he would understand. Once Holmes was inside he gave him a once over. His friend was definitely different and he was glad for it. It had been a while since he'd had that spark that made him who he was and now he was back. As they started moving he saw him start to lose himself in his thoughts and cleared his throat to get his attention.

"What." He asked without looking at him. Holmes was anxious about the night's events and he honestly couldn't blame him. This was definitely a break in their case against Moriarty but it involved a great deal of risk as well.

"Angela left a message for you."

"Which is?" He asked and Watson cleared his throat before delivering the message.

"She said that she knew and that you would suffer for it. I have no idea what she means." Holmes smirked and resumed looking out the window.

"It's for her own good after all." Watson didn't understand Holmes' reply either but then he didn't understand half of what Holmes said to him. He chuckled suddenly realizing that both Angela and Sherlock understood each other but confused everyone around them. _Similis, similis, they've found each other_. He actually laughed out loud at this, earning a confused glare from Sherlock which only furthered his own amusement. The idea that they would drive each other as insane as they drove everybody else was enough to send him into a fit of laughter that lasted the entire ride to their designated watching place. Holmes glared at him until he could no longer suppress the smile that spread across his face.

"Watson, have you lost your mind?"

"No." But the doctor wouldn't stop laughing. He could already see them arguing and it only served to fuel his laughter.

"What's so amusing then?"

"Oh, nothing." He managed to calm himself down so he started to wipe away the tears that had run down his face as he laughed. What they were doing was serious business and the fact that Holmes, of all people, was anxious managed to sober him up enough.

Holmes was nearly giddy with excitement. He was sure he'd never been presented with such a complex problem as the one placed before him by Professor Moriarty. The man had single-handedly united in his person what constituted the industry of war using the criminal world systematically. It was both horrifying and brilliant, but to what end, he didn't yet know and he was counting on Angela in order to find out.

He had his suspicions, of course, but he knew nothing about where and when they could be put into action. Ultimately all roads led to the same place, whatever information Angela managed to acquire, he would eventually have to pay the Professor a visit. Sighing he turned his thoughts to Angela. She was a complication he hadn't foreseen. He'd certainly worried that Moriarty would turn his attentions to Watson and his bride to be but so far, thankfully, that hadn't been the case.

Angela was another matter altogether and he feared that she would suffer the same fate as Irene. He would never forgive himself if she did and he'd go to any lengths to prevent it. Shifting in his seat he wondered absently about how Angela was faring in her meeting. He quieted his thoughts assuring himself that he would know soon enough.

Angela stood in the designated spot waiting for the messenger from Moriarty to appear. The cold was numbing the skin that was exposed and she wished for the hundredth time to be done with this. Looking about her she spotted a man approaching her from her right side. By his walk and build alone she could already tell this was Thomas. He'd been her instructor in hand to hand combat since she was sixteen. He was also the only one of her superiors who had treated her like a human being while everyone else treated her like she was an object or a tool to be used and disposed of when convenient.

"Angela. Everything went as planned?" As he reached her he looped his arm with hers and they continued to walk in the direction he'd been going towards.

"Yes. He believed every word of it. He wasn't very interested at first but he came around."

"Good. Then here." He handed her a thick envelope which she quickly hid inside her coat.

"Inside you'll find your next instructions. The Professor will be proud when he hears of your success." He looked at her like he was proud as well and she supposed that they should be. After all she was the first of her kind, trained since she was a child to be a weapon. The fact that she could successfully carry out a mission of this importance only served to prove that all the time and money they'd put into her training was worth it. All at once she was glad she was one step closer to being completely free of these people.

"Good. Anything else?" She replied, anxious to get this over with.

"No. When you're done with this mission the Professor wants to take your training to a new level but we will talk about that once you've completed the assignment." Before he removed his arm from hers completely she had to ask.

"New level?" She was confused. All this time she'd thought she'd gotten to the highest level within the training facility and now they had a new level?

"You'll find out soon enough. First you have to succeed within this mission." Giving her a light kiss on her cheek he unhooked his arm from hers and returned the way he'd come. Angela was rooted to the spot, her mind reeling with the possibilities of a new level. It's not that she wanted to go back, it was more like fear of what they might be planning. Pulling the collar of her coat closer to her neck she started walking at a brisk pace to her apartment. The chill that followed her all the way home, though, had very little to do with the weather.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Holmes! Are you coming or not?" Angela yelled up the stairs impatiently.

"Yes!" Came Sherlock's voice and a minute later he was standing beside her near the front door. In an almost unconscious gesture Angela reached out and straightened his cravat. He looked handsome, she thought, although his hair was in it's usually messy state but that couldn't be helped.

"Thank you." He replied absently searching frantically for something in his pockets. Angela smiled to herself as she realized that Sherlock was nervous. Finally sighing in relief, Sherlock pulled out a box from one of his pockets and opened it. It was Watson's wedding ring.

"It's beautiful." Angela commented, taking the box from him to take a closer look.

"If you say so." He replied and gave her a once over, his eyes widening as he did.

"Do you like it?" Angela smiled, twirling on the spot, arms wide and her light blue silk skirts fluttering as she did.

"Yes. You look beautiful, Angela." He answered solemnly. Angela's cheeks colored and looping her arm through his they headed out for Watson's wedding.

The wedding itself was simple but lovely. Angela had never been to a wedding before and found the whole experience both intimidating and exciting. The ceremony itself had been a bit boring but she'd enjoyed the dinner and dance afterwards. After drinking a few glasses of champagne she'd even gotten enough courage to ask Sherlock to join her on the dance floor.

"Please Sherlock!" She begged him pathetically. Sherlock just rolled his eyes and looked everywhere but at her. Sighing with frustration she looked around the room. It seemed like she wouldn't be dancing at a wedding after all.

"Oh, alright!" He said finally and grabbing her by the hand he dragged her towards the dance floor, twirling her once before pulling her close to him. "Anything to take that look off of your face." He whispered in her ear and Angela giggled.

"Why Mr. Holmes! Such a gentleman!" She giggled once more, feeling lighter and happier than she had in a long time. Sherlock trained his eyes on her, a frown forming between his brows.

"How many glasses of champagne have you had, darling?"

"Mm, four. Or maybe six." She giggled. "I'm not sure."

Sherlock suppressed a smile as he swept Angela around the dance floor. She was really an exceptional dancer, easy to lead and graceful on her feet. He was glad he'd agreed to dance with her even though he hadn't wanted to dance in the first place, he was working through some of the problems in their case.

The envelope they'd given Angela contained detailed instructions on who her target was but not on how to dispose of him, instead they indicated she needed to go to the facility and receive her instructions there. Following Holmes' theory, it was an weapons manufacturer whose death would make Moriarty the sole owner of his company. He and Angela had decided that they would leave for Paris immediately after Watson's wedding, but Holmes would stop by Moriarty's office before they did.

"Angela?" She'd been leaning on his shoulder for some time now and he suspected she'd become drowsy after the effects of inebriation had subsided.

"Hm?" Was her drowsy reply and all at once Holmes felt like putting his arms around her and pulling her closer. He didn't. People were already giving him strange looks, he didn't want them to start talking as well.

"We're leaving, darling. Can you walk?" He asked pulling away. She nodded that she could but to be safe he kept his arm looped with hers until they were inside the cab.

Angela sat beside him one their way back to his apartment. She'd nearly fallen asleep a few times but her head had popped up when she'd sensed she was falling. Holmes was overcome with a wave of tenderness for her and had suppressed the urge to pull her to him while she slept. The truth was, he never thought he would ever feel this way about anyone, and now that he did, his instinct told him to run away with her to where they'd both be safe. He couldn't think that way though, they would cross that bridge after everything was over.

They reached the apartment late in the afternoon. Angela had been still too drowsy to go up to her room so he'd led her to his and put her in bed.

"Holmes?" She called out as he was leaving the room.

"Yes?" He replied turning towards her.

"Are you going to see the Professor now?" She murmured not opening her eyes. Sherlock stepped closer and sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

"Yes." He answered.

"You should be careful."

"I will be." He said seriously.

"He's...a bad man." She replied frowning. Holmes smiled before it occurred to him that she was probably referring to something specific.

"What do you mean?" He asked, frowning now.

"The facility." She murmured sleepily, and a second later a delicate snore, if a snore could be delicate at all, escaped her lips.

He would let her sleep until he got back, but her words had provoked a shiver of unease to go through him. He'd have to ask her what she meant eventually, he thought. Brushing a stray hair from her forehead he leaned forward and gave her a light kiss on the cheek, smiling when she flushed a light pink. He'd been wanting to do that all day but hadn't dared in public. He was glad to know, however, that even sleeping she reacted to him this way.

Finally pulling himself away from her he closed the door to his room behind him and headed for Moriarty's office. His thoughts weren't anywhere near the task at hand though, they were still with the beautiful broken brunette he'd left sleeping in his bed.

**Note:**

**Hey people!**

**I wanted to let you all know that I will continue with this story and finish it. That is a promise. However I have started classes and the chapters will be coming in once a week or maybe twice a week if I have enough time.**

**I want to thank all of you for reading and for your comments and reviews! Please keep reading and, as you already know, any comments about the story or anything at all please let me know!**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

_Angela was 22 years old._

_She was standing over the body of Alexander Mackel, one of Europe's most active revolutionary leaders. Anonymous to most people, he was like a ghost. There one second and gone the next. _

_He was definitely gone now._

"_No lose ends." Angela muttered to herself and stepping over the still bleeding body she walked into the bathroom to clean the knife. Most of the other agents would prefer a gun or a rifle, but Angela had chosen a knife to the throat for very specific reasons, the most important of which being that the man rarely left this room and the noise of a gun would certainly draw too much attention._

_As it was, Angela had only minutes and a very difficult escape ahead of her. She took a damp towel to her face and neck before donning her deep burgundy silk and velvet dress. It was a good thing she'd taken it off in the first place, he'd been a messy bleeder._

_Taking one last look around the room to make sure she'd left nothing of herself behind, she threw the towel into the fireplace and pulled the door open. There was no one on the outside, she noticed with a frown and hesitated._

"_He likes to take his girls down to his room. You can say what you want about Alexander, but when it comes to the women in his life he's a gentleman. He sends his guards away for the night and doesn't call them back until the girls have left." She remembered his brother's words and her brow unfurled. Right. He didn't like people listening in on what he considered his private life._

_Moving quickly through the shadows she made it to the outside unseen. She'd been cautious but she'd also been lucky. Nobody was looking for her, so no one had seen her. Yet. _

_There was a cab waiting for her two blocks away from the building she'd just exited. She moved quickly down the deserted street. They'd know what had happened to him soon enough and she wanted to be long gone by then. It wasn't that she was afraid. Not in the least. It was the fact that she'd known this man and his people for nearly a year before she'd been given the order to kill him. What she felt was haunted._

_Stepping into the cab she sighed in relief before taking notice of the person sitting across from her._

"_Professor!" She said on a gasp and straightened in her seat as it began to move forward._

"_Very well done Angela." He said without looking at her. "You're skills have matured a great deal."_

"_Thank you, Professor." She replied quietly._

"_I have a new task for you." He said handing her a thick envelope. Opening it, she found several newspaper clippings and photographs of a man who looked incredibly familiar. She frowned._

"_Sherlock Holmes? I thought he was Irene Adler's assignment."_

"_He was, but, I fear she's been compromised." Angela thought she could detect a hint of something in his voice but couldn't quite identify it. She brushed it aside._

"_Compromised how?" She asked._

"_As all women are compromised." He said looking straight at her now and Angela felt momentarily confused. "Of course, you don't have that problem. Do you Angela?" _

"_I don't think I do." She replied evenly. _

"_Of course you don't. That's what makes you so remarkable, my dear. Truly, my most successful accomplishment yet." He replied with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Angela suppressed the shiver of unease that always slid through her when she saw him smile._

_The cab stopped in front of the facility -her home- and Angela moved to get out of the cab._

"_Do your homework, as you always do. I suspect you'll be replacing Irene sooner than you think."_

_Angela nodded once and stepped out of the cab into the cool night air. Once inside the facility, the reality of what she'd done set in and it was all she could do to keep herself from sliding to the ground. She walked to her room and locked the door behind her before succumbing to the shaking fits she was prone to when she'd finished a job. _

_She'd have to develop much thicker skin, she thought, if she was going to do this to Sherlock Holmes._

Holmes' meeting with Moriarty had gone exactly as he'd thought it would. He hadn't considered the man to be honorable in the least, but he'd thought he would at least limit the bloodshed only to what was necessary. The man was mad, however, and Holmes had no doubts that he intended to go after Watson to distract him from his plans. He was brilliant though, Holmes wouldn't lie to himself, and if it weren't for what he already knew he would certainly come to admire him. He quickly brushed that thought aside. Moriarty was delusional and Holmes would stop him, whatever the cost.

Stepping into his apartment, he noticed Angela sitting on the steps with two suitcases near her feet and her head in her hands.

"How are you feeling?" He asked sitting close beside her.

"Much better." She replied, lifting her head to smile up at him. "How was your meeting with Moriarty?"

"Just as I'd expected." He replied furrowing his brow and Angela nodded her understanding. It hadn't been productive in the least.

"So we're leaving for Paris?"

"Yes, but we need to find Watson and Mary on the train." He replied standing up and holding his hand out to her. Angela took it and stood, coming up very near when he pulled on her hand. Her breathing quickened and her heartbeat accelerated. She'd been nervous about being alone with him in a cabin on the train from the moment she'd woken up and now that it was close to happening she seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Holmes noticed the change quickly and pulled her closer, lifting one brow inquisitively.

"Nervous, darling?" He asked, locking his eyes with hers.

"About what, Mr. Holmes?" She replied, her voice low.

"Being alone with me, in a tiny little cabin on a train, with no place to go?" He replied easily but Angela could tell that whatever she was feeling, he was feeling it as well.

"Oh, that." She replied smiling slowly. "Yes. Terrified."

Sherlock smiled and Angela noticed a mischievous twinkle in his grey eyes. It vanished quickly though and was replaced by a light chuckle that, for the very first time in her life, had her feeling butterflies.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

They arrived in Paris early in the evening. The doctor and his wife had been less than pleased to find that both her and Holmes had tagged along on their honeymoon. Even less pleased that Moriarty's men had been very close behind them. It'd been a good thing that they'd gotten on the same train, as Holmes had suggested, or things might've gone very differently. As it was, Angela was nervous, which was still new to her. They'd managed to foil the men on the train and she was sure that most of them hadn't made it out alive but she feared that maybe one of them had and could report back to the Professor.

Sitting in the cab on their way to their hotel they were all silent and tired. They'd go to sleep tonight but in the morning Holmes was planning on sending Mary back to his brother's in order to keep her safe. Angela had to agree it was the best course of action, but wasn't sure that Watson would agree with her. She'd leave that to Holmes, in any case, she was too tired to deal with that mess considering that her instructions weren't only to bring Holmes to Paris, at all costs, but also to perform a hit. They'd be giving her instructions tomorrow when she visited the facility and she shivered at the thought.

"Are you cold?" Holmes whispered putting his arm around her. They mirrored the couple sitting across from them, Watson and Mary, who'd fallen asleep in that position.

"No. I'm just thinking about tomorrow." She replied, letting her head fall on his shoulder.

"About the facility?" As usual, Holmes had hit the nail on the head. She wasn't surprised that he knew but relieved that she could finally talk about it to someone.

"Yes." She confessed. "I dread going back there." She sighed. It wasn't just that she dreaded going back there, it was that she dreaded stepping into her old skin, as it were, while she was there. It was strange, but before she'd met Holmes the strongest feeling in her body had been her shaking fits after a mission. The rest of the time she'd felt pretty much numb to anything. The last few days though she'd been feeling all kinds of things she'd never felt before and it seemed like the more she accepted it, the more feelings she could put a name to, the more that kept revealing themselves to her. It was both exciting and exhausting.

"Do you think you could tell me about it?" He asked cautiously and Angela tensed. She wasn't sure she was ready to talk about all of it. The fact that she'd admitted that she dreaded going back there alone had been a breakthrough. Holmes felt her tensing up beside him and sighed.

"I want to. It's just...I don't know that I can." She replied honestly. "I can try."

"I'm not trying to force you, darling, but I'd like to help. It's what I do, you know." He spoke quietly into her hair, placing a kiss on top of her head when he'd finished. They spent the rest of the ride to the hotel in that position and it wasn't long before Angela had fallen asleep.

Holmes woke her up once he and Watson had settled their accommodations, but she'd done so only as far as it was needed to get herself to a bed. It amused him, but it was short lived since he had more pressing matters to attend to. Settling in a chair by the window of their room, he lit his pipe and waited for Angela to fall completely asleep.

Her instructions on who her hit was had been precise but the means to carry it out had been vague. She had to bring him here and then had to visit the facility. The envelope had been filled with the description, the picture and invitations to a peace summit to be held at Reichenbach Falls. She'd explained to him that the invitations were likely for them and that the lone photograph without further instructions wasn't unusual. They'd been less certain about her need to got to the facility and he was still struggling with the fact that she wanted to go alone. It seemed to him like it was a trap and he had half a mind to follow her there despite his need to find the man in the photograph and warn him. This was why women were a distraction.

In the past he'd have no qualms about retreating into his head to work out a problem and then going about solving it in any way that proved effective. Now he was cautious and not only that, but he was making the effort to seem calm and well adjusted for someone else's sake. Her sake. It was exhausting but he couldn't help it. Underlying his exhaustion was a fear that if he let himself be as mad as he felt on the inside she would surely follow his example. The difference between them was that he was sure he could grapple with his own madness but wasn't nearly as sure about her. To him she seemed fragile and until it proved to be otherwise he'd have to make do.

"Sherlock." His name was a whisper and for a moment he thought she'd woken up. He stood and went to her side but found her sleeping still. He sat down on the bed beside her, observing her while she slept for the second time now. She was frowning and her lips were set in a tense line. She was having a nightmare and she'd called out his name. His name. A warm feeling spread throughout his body. Angela shifted on the bed and Holmes reached out a shaking hand to brush her hair away from her face. He didn't know why she affected him so much but it was starting to make him incredibly uncomfortable. He was glad he'd brought his needle with him after all, he couldn't let his emotions overtake him.

Angela reacted to his touch immediately, turning her face to his hand, the frown slipping away from her face. He cupped her cheek and her eyes fluttered open.

"Sherlock?" She whispered his name like a question.

"I'm here." He replied removing his hand guiltily. Sitting up slightly she watched him through eyes heavy with sleep.

"What's wrong?" Was all she asked.

"You were having a nightmare. You called out to me, I was just making sure you were alright." He answered standing up and moving away from the bed but not before seeing the disappointment flash across her features and then the flush that replaced it. It was a a steel door closing in on his self control and he wasn't sure he could fight it much longer. Her emotions and her reactions were just too honest. Too raw. Knowing that she was feeling the same things he was feeling was almost too much for him to handle and the worst thing was that she couldn't even keep it from him by masking her feelings like any other human being in creation.

"Are you going to sleep?" She asked falling back on the bed and covering her eyes with her arm.

"Not likely." He replied and it must've been his voice that betrayed him because her head snapped to the side to look at him through narrowed eyes. He walked around his chair and gripped the back of it like it was a lifeline.

"You seem...odd."

"That's not the word you're looking for, is it Angela?" He replied without looking at her but feeling her eyes on him. She was almost as good as he was at observation and deduction and he knew that she would know what he was feeling.

"No. It's not." She whispered and his eyes involuntarily found her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes had darkened with an emotion he was sure she'd never felt with such intensity until that very moment. His eyes moved to her mouth, slightly open, her breath coming in quicker than before.

"Angela." He said it as a warning, but there was no force behind it. Whatever she was feeling, he was feeling it too. Angela closed her eyes and let her breath out slowly.

"I can't help it, Sherlock."

"Please. Don't say my name." His tone was clipped and for one instant Angela felt compelled to obey, but then an overwhelming wave of emotion claimed her and she realized that what she wanted was to say his name over and over again. She turned to him and sitting up in bed she drew in one shaky breath.

"Sherlock." She whispered. He closed his eyes and cursed under his breath as he moved from behind his chair, the last of his self control leaving him with the first rays of morning light.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Sherlock strode over to her and upon reaching her he pulled her to him pressing his lips against hers. The kiss was passionate, and desperate, like he'd been starving for something all this time and she was the only one who could fill that void. Angela reacted, wrapping her arms around his neck and lifting herself up on her toes. They pushed against each other, wanting to fuse themselves together and soon they lost their balance and fell on the bed. Holmes shifted quickly and Angela landed on top of him, neither of them breaking the kiss for a moment.

Angela's hands moved over him, reaching for his shirt and trying to pull it off. She was too nervous, and too eager and she was suddenly overwhelmed by him. Holmes' hands were quicker, snapping off the buttons on her dress deftly and smoothly. Angela grabbed at his hands trying to stop him, trying to catch her breath if only for a moment but he was too quick.

"Stop." She gasped and Holmes immediately stilled. His eyes found hers and for a moment he just looked at her, scrutinizing her face.

"What's wrong?" He asked furrowing his brow. He was sure she wanted this, but he wouldn't go on until she told him to.

"Nothing. It's just-it's-overwhelming." Angela managed to get the words out even though her breathing was ragged and the need that had built inside her was so strong she couldn't see straight.

"Angela? Are you alright, darling?" He sat up in bed now, and she was straddling him, one leg on each side of his. It was hard to concentrate having her this close but the look on her face was enough to sober him up.

"Yes! I am." She swallowed. "It just feels like my heart is about to pop out of my chest is all." She finished quietly and Holmes finally understood what she was saying. She wouldn't say it straight out, or maybe she just couldn't, but he understood. Sighing, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her once again. Slowly this time.

Angela responded tentatively at first and then all at once as passionately as before. It was like something clicked between them, and the fire that had been threatening to consume them from the moment they met welcomed them like an old friend. Warm and fierce, but familiar and safe at the same time. Moving his hands down to her hips he pulled her against him, making Angela moan at the contact. Tightening his grip on her hips he made her grind against him once again and clenched his jaw as a current of pleasure shot through him.

They made love twice before Watson came knocking on their door, worried that they'd killed each other or worse. Holmes had shouted back that he'd be out in a minute and it had effectively put an end to their third round of lovemaking. Holmes trailed a line of kisses down her neck before sighing and moving off of her. They both laid tangled on the bed for a few moments, neither one of them wanting to leave but both knowing they had no choice.

"I have to go to the facility today." Angela said quietly and Holmes could tell that she was growing more and more nervous as the time to leave drew near. He was feeling the same way, but they couldn't afford her revealing her cards just yet. Still, he'd developed a bad feeling about the whole thing. Something didn't seem right but he couldn't put his finger on what. What irritated him most was not knowing wether he detected something out of place or if it was just his need to protect Angela that was driving him to that conclusion.

"I know." Was all he said and Angela sighed defeated.

"I may as well get this over with." She said finally and sat up in bed, rubbing the grogginess that had overtaken her from her face.

"Angela," Holmes' voice was barely a whisper, "I have to say something. Just in case."

"In case of what?" She replied, laying back down and facing him.

"In case I don't get the chance to later on. I made the mistake of keeping my feelings to myself once and I know that if I don't say this to you now-I won't be able to cope if I make the same mistake with you." He managed to stutter his way through the whole statement but Angela was still confused.

"What are you going on about Sherlock?" His eyes locked on to hers and his mouth quirked up in a half smile.

"I think I love you." He blurted out and Angela's eyebrows drew up in surprise. She opened her mouth to speak but he kept on talking before she could.

"Actually, I'm fairly certain that I love you." He cleared his throat and Angela let go of the breath that she'd been holding.

"How do you know?" She asked honestly and was rewarded by the very loud laughter of Sherlock Holmes.

"Well," he managed between laughs, "there's no other explanation for my behavior towards you."

"I think I love you too." She replied quietly and it was enough to quiet Holmes down. He hadn't expected her to admit to it, although he'd been fairly certain about her feelings when she'd reacted the way she had as they'd been about to make love. He pulled her on top of him and drew her face down to his, their lips touching briefly before he sighed and closed his eyes. At least he'd told her. Whatever happened after this day, she would know, at least.

They were bathed and dressed in half an hour and met Watson and Mary for tea where Holmes had proposed to send Mary to Mycroft's house. As Angela had predicted Watson wasn't too keen on the idea but it was certainly hard to argue with the logic. It was the safest place for her after all.

"What do you think Mary?" Watson directed his question to her and they stared at each other briefly before Mary finally conceded that it was probably for the best.

"You're all right. I do hate to cut our honeymoon short, though."

"I'll make it up to you, darling. I swear it."

"Yes, I reckon you will." Mary answered him quietly and they exchanged brief glances before turning their attention back to Angela and Holmes. They'd been staring a each other and had looked guiltily away.

"Very well. It's all been arranged for you already. The train leaves in forty five minutes." Holmes offered quickly and took a sip of his tea.

"You already knew we would agree." Mary said it as a statement but Holmes answered nonetheless.

"Yes, well, asking you was a formality. At least on my part." He replied, keeping his eyes downcast, although his eyes shifted every once in a while in Angela's general direction. Mary turned an accusing glare Watson's way but he lifted his hands dismissively.

"Don't look at me. I always want your approval, darling." He smiled at her, lifting his hand and pushing a curl back from her face. Mary's face softened at the affectionate gesture and Watson's smile widened in return.

Angela blushed witnessing Mary and Watson's exchange. She didn't know where it had come from but she suddenly wanted to be that affectionate with Holmes in public. Of all the people she'd known she couldn't believe that she wanted this for herself. Holmes shifted closer to her and put his lips to her ear.

"If you keep blushing like that I may have to take you back to my room and have my way with you a few more times." He whispered so softly that Angela struggled to understand. She did understand, however, and she flushed scarlet as thoughts of how she'd spent the morning flashed through her mind.

"Angela, are you alright?" Mary asked her, a look of concern on her face. Holmes chuckled next to her and Angela had half a mind to slap the grin right off of his face. He might find that even more amusing though, so she kept her hands tucked safely at her sides.

"I'm fine Mary, thank you. It's just a little hot in here so I'm going upstairs to freshen up for my meeting while you finish." Angela replied and stood from the table. "If you'll excuse me."

Mary was looking at her like she was worried about her health. No doubt she thought her flushed skin was due to a fever or some other kind of illness. Watson on the other hand didn't seem to be fooled and was shifting his gaze between a flushed Angela and the amused Holmes that was sitting by her side.

Gathering her skirts she walked quickly out of the tea room and up the stairs. She couldn't bear the thought of Watson putting the pieces together, and in her presence no less. She would be mortified. Besides, she thought to herself, if she was going back to the facility she had to get her bearings and that was definitely not going to happen while she was in the vicinity of Sherlock Holmes.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Holmes stared after Angela as she left the room, letting out a quiet breath when she was out of sight. He would have a hard time getting his head to function properly with thoughts of her going through it for the rest of the day. Nevertheless, he had a job to do and so did she, being distracted was not an option. Turning his attention to his companions, he found that Mary had left the table and Watson was looking at him with a curious look on his face.

"What?" He asked annoyed, he could already tell that he wasn't going to like what Watson had to say.

"You know what." Watson replied lifting a brow.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." He replied pulling out his pipe and setting a match to it. Watson leaned forward in his chair and looked at him. Holmes huffed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't strain yourself, Watson, you won't get anything from me."

"She's fragile."

"She's not."

"Emotionally, I mean."

"So what?"

"Holmes!"

"What do you want from me, Watson?" He asked tiredly. If there was one thing he wanted to avoid was this conversation he was having right this moment.

"Do you love her?"

"You know that I do." He answered him quietly and it was true. Watson knew him better than his own brother, and his behavior hadn't been precisely consistent with the way he usually behaved.

"Oh." Watson answered lifting his brows in surprise.

"Oh? Is that all you have to say?" Holmes whispered savagely, putting down his pipe.

"Well, I'm not sure what I should say." Watson replied, concealing a smile behind his hand. Holmes rolled his eyes and sunk into his chair. He was in over his head this time, and Watson was evidently not going to be much help.

They finished their tea quickly and after dropping Mary off at the train station they headed for Angela's meeting. Watson and Holmes would step out of the cab a few blocks away and she would continue on her own so that they wouldn't be seen together. The men would continue on to find the man in the photograph, Angela's hit, and warn him if they could. Angela would meet them back at the hotel after her meeting was over.

Angela had been growing increasingly uneasy from the moment she'd been handed the envelope containing instructions on how to proceed. She'd assumed when she'd seen it would be a hit she would have to perform while she was in Paris. After reading her instructions and realizing she would have to go by the facility before she did anything she'd been forced to reassess the situation. Normally, she would be allowed to use her own methods in executing her missions. The fact that she had to consult with someone first was highly unusual and it was making her nervous. She'd been hiding it fairly well, for Holmes' sake, but she was afraid that it was starting to show. Holmes had been having a hard time accepting what he was feeling, she didn't want to overwhelm him if she could help it.

Holmes wound his fingers between hers and gave her hand a squeeze, effectively drawing her out of her thoughts. She found his eyes with hers and gave him a half smile.

"I'm fine, Mr. Holmes. Wipe that look from your face." She said lightly before turning to look out the window once more.

"You're not fine, Angela, and you won't fool me with your attitude. You must think I'm Watson or something."

"Hey! Be nice." Watson protested but averted his eyes quickly, like he was giving them privacy. Angela narrowed her eyes at the men but didn't say anything.

"What I meant to say is that you don't need to put on a show around me, I know you're nervous and-"

"I'm not! I just think it's unusual that I have to go there, is all. It's never been this way before." She replied cutting him off. She knew he was having a hard time concentrating on his own task because he was worrying about her and it just wouldn't work. She need Holmes to be exactly himself from now on if they were going to succeed.

Two blocks away from the facility they stopped and the men got off. Holmes waited for Watson to be out of the cab before he took Angela's face in his hands and kissed her. It was a soft lingering kiss and it took her a minute to clear the fuzz from her head.

"Be on your guard." He said still holding her face in his hands and looking intently into her eyes. He looked like he wanted to say more, but instead he clenched his jaw and waited for a sign of understanding. Angela nodded once and Holmes, taking it as a sign that she understood, got out of the cab to join Watson on the sidewalk. Then men stared after her cab for a few minutes before turning and heading in the opposite direction.

Angela sat up in her seat, anxious to get to the facility. She arrived shortly and was received by Sebastian Moran, her weapons instructor for as long as she could remember. He nodded to her in greeting and they walked together to the facility's library where she presumed the Professor awaited with her instructions. She hadn't been to the facility in nearly six months and she found that she could've lived the rest of her life without ever going back. She didn't miss it in the least. The whole place had a clinical feel to it, like a hospital, that unnerved her and she wondered why she'd never noticed it before.

Upon reaching the double doors to the library, Sebastian pushed open one of the doors and moved aside so that she could enter. The Professor sat in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace with his red notebook in hand, making notes as usual. Sebastian closed the door behind her and finding no other options available, Angela took the chair opposite the Professor and waited for him to address her. Finally the Professor's eyes rose to look at her and he frowned.

"There's something different about you." He said quietly and a shiver of unease went through her.

"Is there?" She asked and the Professor merely nodded in reply. He was studying her carefully and Angela made sure to keep her face inscrutable.

"There's been a slight change of plans." He said finally, closing his notebook and putting it inside his waistcoat pocket.

"Oh?"

"Sebastian will be taking over your assignment for now." He said calmly and Angela could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"I don't understand. Have I done something wrong?"

"Not at all. Quite the contrary, you've done exceptionally well." He replied and as he did, Sebastian burst through the doors of the library dragging a beaten and bloodied man with him.

Stumbling, the man fell to the floor and remained motionless. Angela observed the man for a moment and found it odd that something about his messy head of dark waves seemed awfully familiar. Moving her eyes down his body she suppressed the scream that threatened to rip out of her throat as she realized the man was Sherlock Holmes.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Angela's head was pounding fiercely when she finally regained consciousness. She struggled to remember what had happened after she'd seen Sherlock's body lying motionless on the floor but the details weren't clear. She was sure there'd been a fight or some kind of struggle, but she couldn't remember much of the events that followed. Keeping her head steady, she blinked several times to dispel the blurriness that had overtaken her vision but found even that small gesture extremely painful.

"Oh." A soft moan escaped her lips and she gritted her teeth against the pain.

"Angela." Sherlock whispered, relief evident in his voice. "Are you alright?" He asked her quietly, his hands going over her wrists and ankles efficiently.

"Holmes, don't ask stupid questions." She whispered and scrunched up her face as her soft chuckles caused her pain. Holmes huffed but didn't answer and within a minute he had her free of her bindings and was helping her out of her chair.

"Holmes, we have to go." She heard Watson's voice but didn't want to move her head to look his way for fear it would hurt worse than what it did at that moment.

"I'm going to need your help with her Watson, my shoulder's been compromised."

Angela felt a strong arm encircle her waist and she leaned against him, grateful for the support. They moved quickly and quietly, occasionally stopping to catch their breaths or avoid the guards. An eternity later, or so it seemed, they'd made it back to their hotel.

The doctor tended first to Holmes' wounds before moving on to her own. After he was done, Angela drew herself a bath sunk into it slowly and painfully until she was almost completely submerged in the water. Flashes of her struggle came back to her but she didn't want to think about it at that moment. All that mattered now was that she'd been discovered and that she couldn't go back.

Holmes came into the bathroom once she'd been there a few minutes, and she jumped nervously.

"Sherlock!" She gasped and was rewarded with a smirk and a lifted brow.

"I think we're past modesty, don't you agree?" He replied handing her a glass half full of an amber liquid. Angela frowned at him and made no move to take the glass from his hand.

"It's for the pain, woman." He said, finally taking her hand and pushing the glass into it. Angela downed the liquid in two gulps and gave it back to him. Taking the glass from her he sat on the edge of the tub and poured himself a drink.

"I suppose I walked right into that one. I'm an idiot." Angela sighed, reaching out her hand to take the glass from him. Before he could drink it himself he gave it to her and waited for her to drain it before taking it back.

"You're not an idiot, and it wasn't a totally fruitless endeavor." He replied and gave her a half smile that made her flush with excitement. Her reaction didn't go unnoticed and Holmes raised his eyebrows in response.

"Don't. Finish telling me about how this wasn't a total disaster first." She replied sternly and Holmes nodded in agreement before launching into his story.

"I managed to pilfer his red notebook." He said proudly and Angela struggled to understand how that was important.

"And that's good because...?"

"Well, it occurred to me that a man with such a big economic empire would have to keep a record of it somewhere. I first noticed his notebook while attending one of his lectures and then on several more occasions afterwards. I was convinced that if he kept a record of his finances he would carry it on his person at all times, hence, the notebook.

Of course, it would be encoded as an additional safeguard, but then I saw something during my visit to his office that gave me a clue. I've sent both the notebook and the book to decode it to my brother's house where Mary is going to work on it and send it to Scotland Yard." He finished finally, downing his drink in one gulp and pouring another one.

"That won't be enough." Angela said quietly and Holmes nodded in response.

"No, it won't. His plans are still in effect."

"What are his plans exactly? I'm only told about the people we need to kill to make it work."

"War, of course. He plans to start an international brawl and he's already half way there." He replied and Angela felt her stomach drop at the news. She'd never bothered to think about it but she'd been an integral part of his plan, she was responsible for countless deaths and would be for so many others if they didn't manage to stop him.

"What's wrong?" Holmes asked setting down both the glass and the bottle and moving closer to her.

"Nothing." Her voice was barely a whisper. She knew this feeling probably better than she'd known the rest. She was ashamed. Tears trickled down her cheeks and she wiped at them furiously with the backs of her hands.

"Darling, tell me what's wrong." He moved even closer to her, his hands flying over her arms and hands, unsure of how to help her. If she hadn't been so completely consumed with her own misery she might've laughed at him. As it was, she couldn't stop her tears from falling or the guilt from taking her over.

"All those people." She cried. "If he succeeds-all those people!-all those people, will die because of me." She admitted brokenly and Holmes finally understood. He wanted to comfort her but no words came to mind. Instead he took a towel and lifting her out of the tub he wrapped it around her, pulling into his chest. Angela sobbed for what felt like an eternity, and all he could do was hold her tighter.

Eventually she managed to calm down, and Holmes walked her over to the bed and sat her down on the edge. Going back into the bathroom he retrieved the bottle and glass and poured her another drink. He was ill equipped to deal with this but he couldn't very well go and call Watson while she was still undressed. Setting the bottle down, he sighed and raked his hands through his hair exasperated.

"We do have a plan to take down Moriarty." He admitted finally. Maybe knowing there was a chance that they might avert catastrophe would make her feel better but he wasn't too keen on opening up about his plans.

"You do?" She asked, slurring her words slightly and Holmes took the opportunity to remove the glass from her hand, he didn't want this to become a habit after all.

"Yes and I'll tell you about it tomorrow." He replied taking the bottle and the glass to the desk near the window. "Now you need to rest, we have a busy day tomorrow."

Angela dropped the towel she'd been using on the floor and settled herself on the bed. Noticing her lack of clothing, Holmes took off his shirt threw it at her for her to wear. If he had to lie next to her in all her naked glory for the whole night they wouldn't be getting any sleep and that just wasn't an option. Angela pulled his shirt over her head and pulled the bedsheets over her body, stretching as she did so.

"Please come to bed." She muttered and Holmes complied, slipping into the bed next to her. In spite of himself, he pulled her against his chest and buried his face in her hair.

"I'm going to stop him." Angela muttered sleepily. "I'm going to make things right."

"Yes, darling. We will. Now go to sleep." Holmes whispered in her ear. Angela nodded groggily and within a few minutes Holmes could hear her breathing go soft and even, indicating that she'd fallen asleep.

He, on the other hand, couldn't rest. When he'd said that he had a plan to take down Moriarty he hadn't been lying, but he'd also kept some of the truth to himself. He knew that bringing Moriarty to justice wouldn't be as easy as handing him over to the authorities. He also knew that if he waited any longer, he would make his money back and proceed with his plan. No, Holmes had to act as soon as possible, before it went further than it already had. This time it wasn't just that he wanted justice to prevail, he wanted to give Angela a second chance at her own life and he was sure that she wouldn't be able to move on if she felt responsible for starting a war. He would succeed this time, even if it meant he had to sacrifice himself in the process.

**Note:**

**Hey people! First of all, I wanted to thank you for all your reviews. I didn't expect any when I started writing this story so it was a nice surprise to find that people actually liked it! Second, I went over all the chapters once again and corrected a few mistakes and inconsistencies, just so you know. If you happen to notice any please let me know.**

**Third, I wanted to run an idea by you. I was thinking that after I finish this story I might do something about Watson. If it's something you'd be interested in reading please let me know. **

**That's all!**


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

It was still dark outside when Angela woke to the sounds of someone opening and closing drawers in her room. Shifting to her side she opened her eyes and found Holmes was already bathed and dressed and was putting away the few items they'd brought with them on the train. He hadn't noticed that she was awake yet and Angela took the opportunity to stare at him without the fear of being caught. He was long and lean, but she'd seen what was underneath his clothes and he was all muscle. She liked his face too. It wasn't pretty, it was masculine, all square jaw and stubbled cheeks of it. Angela flushed as she remembered the feel of that stubble against her skin.

"Are you done staring, darling? Because we need to catch a train." He said, finally finished with the packing, lifting a pair of amused gray eyes to look at her. Angela flushed a deeper color but stood from the bed, taking the sheets with her and holding them around herself like a cape. Holmes hid a smile beneath his hand but didn't comment and Angela decided she was still too sleepy to abuse him for it.

She bathed quickly and put on the last of the clothes she'd brought with her that hadn't been ruined in a fight, or a scuffle or any other kind of physical confrontation. It was a dove gray dress in wool with silk detailing and a soft bustle. A simple dress but one that suited her personality perfectly. Looking at herself in the mirror she decided she wanted to do something with her normally free flowing hair, so she took a matching gray ribbon and tied up half of her hair with it. She decided she liked the way it looked and smiled at herself in the mirror.

"Angela, we need to go." She heard Holmes' voice coming from the other side of the bathroom door and giving herself one last look in the mirror she walked out of the bathroom and back into the room.

"You seem to be in an awful hurry this morning." Angela commented as she headed toward her bags.

"We both need to be in a hurry, now come along." Holmes led her to a cab where Watson was already waiting for them. Once their luggage was mounted on the cab they left for the train station at a brisk pace.

It had been a long time since Angela had woken up so early in the morning. The sky was still dark and the fog was thick in the air, making it difficult to see where they were going. She decided she didn't like waking up that early and sunk into her seat in the cab, wishing she was already on board the train where she could go back to sleep. Holmes was sitting across from her, his eyes glued to her every move.

"You're not a morning person." He commented amused and Angela nodded in agreement.

"I just noticed that as well." She replied and resumed looking out the window.

"What else have you noticed about yourself?" He asked curiously and Angela made a quick inventory about what she'd learned so far.

"I haven't given it much thought. I made a promise to myself that I'd endeavor to find out more about who I am but I don't think I've quite lived up to that promise." She replied frowning. Holmes nodded and opened his mouth as if to say something but restrained himself, making Angela all the more curious about what he had to say.

"Spit it out, Holmes. You know you want to." She told him mildly and stared at him expectantly. He hesitated but eventually gave in with a sigh.

"Alright."

"And things were going so well." Watson muttered turning to face them and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, go on! This should be entertaining." He said finally when neither Holmes nor Angela said a word.

"You're not a morning person," he started hesitantly, "but you already know that. I've noticed that you also don't care about your personal appearance unless you believe it will serve some kind of purpose. No doubt the result of your extreme and, quite frankly, dehumanizing training."

"That's certainly saying something, coming from you." Watson commented and Holmes shot him a dirty look.

"A lot about your training is evident in your personality, but I'm sure it will fade over time. You're face doesn't show emotions, they way most people's do although you certainly blush frequently when you're around me, but that's a reaction that cannot be helped. You don't move a lot, you don't speak too much and I am willing to bet that if you could blend into a wall and have no one see you you would do it. I find that odd, however, because when you drink and you're not so self conscious you become totally carefree, like a child. Also-"

"Stop." Angela was too embarrassed to hear any more of it in front of Watson. He wasn't saying anything necessarily wrong but it made her uncomfortable to know that her training was that evident in her behavior. She also, feared he would start to make deductions about her behavior in bed and she didn't want to have to kill him after she'd grown to like him so much. Holmes stopped immediately and all three of them remained quiet for the rest of the cab ride.

Reaching the train station, they had to move quickly to catch the train. Once inside, Angela claimed one of the seating benches for herself and left the two men to fight it out for the other one. She was going to sleep and they would just have to deal with it. Watson moved quickly, stretching himself out on the other available seat and Holmes was left standing between the two of them with an annoyed look on his face.

"You're too slow, old man." Angela muttered and suppressed a smile when Holmes gave her a deadly look.

"Lift your head."

"Why?"

"Can't you do anything without asking questions? Lift your head woman!" Angela huffed but obeyed. Holmes took a seat where she'd left an empty space and pulled her head back down to his lap.

Angela shifted on her side and made herself more comfortable. She could see Watson directly across from her and he'd already fallen asleep with his hat covering his face. Angela smiled at the amusing display before her and closing her eyes she drifted off to sleep.

An exasperated sigh startled Angela out of her dream a few hours later. She struggled momentarily to recall what she'd been dreaming but the harder she tried, the fainter and less substantial it became. Holmes shifted underneath her and her head nearly slipped off of his lap. Blinking her eyes open she sat up and glared in his general direction.

"Something wrong, Mr. Holmes?"

"I can't sleep and I'm bored."

"You're bored?"

"Yes. Surprised?"

"Well, let's see. So far, you've managed to turn Moriarty's top agent against him, traveled to Paris to stop an assassination, which I have no idea what happened at all, by the way, did we fail? And now we're headed to a peace summit to stop yet another assassination and avert a world war with the potential to send us back a few millennia. I would think you would be quite entertained."

"I already know what I need to know and whatever else I need to know I can only learn once I get there. In the meantime, I am bored and we did fail. Sebastian killed him while we were tied up with Moriarty." He sighed again and Angela suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at him.

"Fine. Let's do something about it."

"Like what?"

"Let's go to the dinner cart."

"And do what? I'm not hungry."

"Observe and deduct."

"I do that all the time."

"We'll compete."

"What?" He asked her frowning and Angela drew on her patience in order to explain.

"When I was training in the facility they took us out every once in a while to watch people in the park. Me and the others would compete over who could gather the most data and make the most deductions. Correct ones, mind you."

"What did you get if you won?"

"Nothing. There was nothing to be gained."

"Well you wouldn't do it just for fun, would you? You wanted to impress your instructors. What happened when you impressed them?"

Angela remained silent while she thought about it. To her, there was really no point to the competition. It'd been pretty much a trivial pursuit, a way to pass the time. Then again, she always won so there was no change in her situation, she was never treated any differently.

"Ah, I see." Holmes said lifting his brows.

"What?"

"You always won."

"I did. So?"

"So, you don't know the advantage because you were always the best. Whatever compensation you received before you continued to receive afterwards."

"I think you're right. Care to measure your talents against my own?"

Holmes looked at her appraisingly and Angela let herself be scrutinized. He would most likely win, but she would be a worthy adversary. Just to make things interesting she decided to add a prize for the winner in this case.

"I'll tell you what Mr. Holmes, if you win, I will do or say anything you ask of me. That's a promise."

"There's nothing I want from you that you won't give willingly." He replied with a wink and Angela felt herself blush. She'd gotten very good at keeping her emotions under control but whenever he caught her off guard it proved to be nearly impossible.

"You're very confident, but you're also wrong. In any case, you will at least win a standing offer. What do you say?"

"Very well." He replied and before he stood up he added. "You enjoy competition. I didn't think that you would."

Angela nodded her head as she considered it. She did enjoy competition, although she'd never given it much thought. The fact that she'd reached such a high placement in the organization should have been proof of that but somehow she'd always thought of herself as a person who did what had to be done and nothing more. This thought gave her pause. At some point she would have to really look at herself and evaluate if all this time she'd been a willing, or rather, an enthusiastic participant in the Professor's plans. The very thought of it made her sick to her stomach.

"Something wrong?" Holmes asked her concerned, noticing the sudden change in her demeanor.

"Yes, I'm fine." She lied. "Shall we go?" She stood and opened the door of the cabin. Holmes hesitated but stood to follow her.

"Don't worry about me! I'm not bored or hungry at all!" Watson commented loudly from inside their cabin and they both turned surprised.

"Oh, doctor Watson! I thought you were sleeping so I didn't ask. Are you hungry?" Angela asked poking her head back inside the cabin.

"Famished." The doctor replied and all three of them headed towards the dinner cart for what promised to be the last peaceful meal they had in a long while.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Angela sat opposite Holmes and Watson while they ate. She'd ordered a plate for herself but had barely touched it, anxious about what was to come. The end of their problem was approaching fast but she couldn't shake the feeling that something else was coming for them. Something that they weren't seeing but that was headed for them all the same. Shaking off that last thought she turned her attention to the man sitting in front of her and frowned when she found him looking at her.

"How long have you been staring?" She asked him and felt her cheeks grow hot.

"Not very long at all."

"I don't count, you know. As far as our little competition goes."

"I know." He said turning his eyes to the crowd of people eating in the cart. "I'm just intrigued."

"Intrigued." She repeated confused but realization dawned on her. "Yes. I suppose it is hard to read someone's reactions when that person doesn't even know herself well enough to react at all."

"Don't sell yourself so short."

"Oh? Have you learned something else?"

"Another time. You said we would compete." He said finally and Angela let the matter go for the time being.

"Very well. You choose someone." Angela replied and scanned the cart quickly, measuring each person in anticipation.

"Very well. I choose the doctor." Holmes said, turning his eyes to look at her. Angela detected the tiniest hint of a challenge in them and felt herself rise to the occasion.

"Which one?" She replied and Holmes lifted one brow in surprise.

"Very good." He replied quietly. "The one with the brother." He added and Angela turned to the men she'd identified as doctors to give them a closer look. Which one of them had a brother? She scanned their clothes, noticing for the first time that one of them had a shirt with initials embroidered on the collar. She reasoned they could just be his initials, but then she noticed the doctor's bag sitting beside him. A smile spread across her face as she noticed the discrepancy between the initials embossed into the leather and the ones on the collar.

"But why would a man embroider his initials into his shirt? And, more importantly, why would he give that shirt away to his brother?"

"You disappoint me. We've only just begun and you're saying you're stumped?" Sherlock leaned back into his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. Watson rolled his eyes beside him but kept on eating. Angela pursed her lips and turned to look at the men again, trying to see what Sherlock was seeing.

The only reason why a person would mark a shirt with their initials is to identify it as their own. Angela had seen it done with children but rarely, if ever, with grown men. It certainly narrowed it down and she thought that the man's brother had most likely lived with other men in such close quarters as to have their clothes confused. Not the military, so perhaps a college or academy. Doctors studied at academies and it occurred to her that the man's brother was most likely a doctor as well. As to why he'd given his shirt to his brother, Angela was still grasping at straws. Perhaps his brother had fallen on hard times and the shirt had been given as an act of charity. A doctor falling on such hard times that he couldn't afford a shirt was rare, as far as she knew, though.

"Maybe he doesn't get paid so well. Who doesn't pay their doctor?" Angela muttered to herself and out of the corner of her eye she saw Sherlock lean forward against the table.

"People with no money. Or unsatisfied customers." He answered quietly and Angela considered it. It was true, so then maybe he was one of those charity doctors, or maybe he was just a mediocre one.

"Which one are you leaning towards?" He asked curiously and she knew wether she won or lost depended on her answer.

"I say charity doctor." She answered and watched Holmes suppress a smile.

"It's a sound conclusion." He nodded. "However I say he is a mediocre doctor."

"Why?"

"The state of the rest of his clothes and shoes. Also the fact that his doctor's bag is in pristine condition, like it's rarely been used." He replied picking a few leftover scraps from Watson's plate and giving her a smug smile.

"Very well, you win." Angela replied, annoyed that she'd lost. He had remarked earlier that she liked competition, she just hadn't realized she enjoyed it this much. The thought gave her no comfort at all. Had she always been this competitive? She wasn't sure but she suspected she'd always been the same way, even in the facility.

"You don't seem very pleased."

"Excellent deduction, Mr. Holmes." Angela snapped, causing both Watson and Holmes to glance up at her surprised. She made a dismissive gesture with her hand and made an effort to smile. To be sure she wouldn't snap at them again she occupied herself with eating, but Holmes wouldn't stop looking at her.

"Something I can help you with Mr. Holmes?" She asked finally and Holmes resumed eating without answering her question.

"You know, I'm done eating. I'll be in our cabin if either of you need me." Watson intervened, standing up to leave the table.

"Doctor Watson there's no reason to leave." Angela replied quickly but Watson was already moving away. Sighing, she turned to look at Holmes and frowned at the expression on his face.

"What?"

"Something is obviously bothering you. Would you like to talk about it?"

"No."

"Very well." He replied sighing and Angela suppressed a smile. She didn't mean to be so frustrating to him but it seemed like she was making him lose his mind all the same.

"I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable."

"You've been making me uncomfortable from the moment we've met. It's not all you."

"Right." She cleared her throat. "I've just been thinking about a few things."

"If you're blaming yourself for what's happening you're only partially right."

"Partially?" Angela asked bristling. She'd been thinking it but apparently Sherlock had been right there sharing her thoughts the whole time and never said a word.

"Angela, I'd be lying if I said that you bear none of the blame. You did play a role and a significant one in Moriarty's plans but it wasn't entirely your fault." He answered, finally locking his eyes with hers.

"How was it not my fault? I was choosing to stay in that life every single day for two

decades." She replied trying to keep her voice low and steady and succeeding but barely.

"You didn't choose that life for yourself and it's all you've ever known." He explained exasperated and took a calming breath. Angela knew that dealing with emotions wasn't his strong suit but up until now she hadn't noticed the toll that dealing with her sudden emotional outbursts was taking on him. He looked just about ready to come apart and she endeavored to avoid it.

"You're right, Sherlock. I didn't mean to be so sensitive."

"I'm honestly surprised you haven't crumbled underneath the pressure you put yourself under." He sighed. "Watson was right." He finished quietly and Angela narrowed her eyes at him.

"Right about what?"

"You're fragile, I just didn't want to see it."

"Sherlock, I'm not!" Angela was outraged. She'd been called a lot of things in her lifetime and there were a lot of things she'd called herself but fragile was not one of them.

"Never mind." He answered with a wave of his hand. "Are you finished?" He asked her absently and Angela counted to ten before answering him.

"I am now." She replied and standing from the table he extended a hand to her which she declined. She walked ahead of him on their way to their cabin. He was deep in thought, judging by his hooded eyes and wrinkled brow but Angela was fuming. It had occurred to her that he might be provoking her, trying to pull her out of what he most likely perceived as an imminent depression, but she doubted that was the case. He seemed honest about he was saying and he wasn't being very comforting about it. It was more like he was on his last nerve and it made her wonder what had him so close to the edge.

Holmes was definitely clinging to his last sane line of thought. At first, when he'd thought that the fact that Angela was so much like him was a gift wrapped in a pretty petite package with soft brown hair and luminous brown eyes. He didn't take into consideration that she would be so much like him, even prone to extreme moods. He'd wanted his last days with her to strengthen her, not weaken her and yet, slowly, she was descending. He could see it happening without being able to stop it. Their little exercise before in the dinner cart had been helpful but he wouldn't be around much longer to make sure she stayed afloat if he wanted to carry out his plans. He stopped walking altogether when he considered what would happen to her when he was gone. He swallowed hard and shook the thought out of his head. If he thought like that, he wouldn't be able to do what needed to be done.

"Sherlock?" He heard her voice as if from far away and blinked a few times as her face came into focus. "Sherlock what is happening to you?" She whispered quietly, her face lined with concern. He noticed that she was no longer angry or at least she'd forgotten it for the time being.

"Nothing." He replied taking a step back. "Thinking." Angela reached up to touch his face but he took another step back, earning himself a glare and a lifted brow.

"Sherlock." She said it as a warning and took a step forward. This time he didn't move and when Angela's hand touched his face he couldn't help the warmth that spread form his chest to the rest of his body. Reaching out, he locked his hands on her waist and pulled her closer to him, burying his face in her neck and hair as he did so. Angela looped her arms around his neck and tangled a free hand in his hair.

Sherlock sighed. He would do what needed to be done, he thought, but he could at least allow himself this one weakness before he did. Knowing what he knew, he had no business involving himself any further with this woman and yet here he was. If the world could see him now they probably wouldn't even recognize him as Sherlock Holmes.

Wrapping his arms around to her he clung to her like a raft. If this problem - this final problem - was going to claim his life, then he was glad another part of him would survive with this maddening woman he was holding between his arms. A part of him he hadn't even suspected existed until she'd showed up on his doorstep and sent all coherent train of thought scattering away from his head. He pulled her closer and breathed her in.

"Well, that is incredibly romantic Mr. Holmes. Who knew?" A female voice interrupted them and Sherlock's blood ran cold as he recognized her voice before he even saw her face.

"Irene." He replied breaking away from Angela and putting himself in front of her. He ignored the indignant huff and significant push that came from behind him.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes! You look like you've seen a Ghost!"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Irene Adler stood before him, alive and well as ever. Holmes had taken the news that she'd died pretty much on faith since there hadn't been a body or a crime scene that he could inspect. On the other hand, he wasn't surprised since it certainly wouldn't be the first time Adler feigned her death.

"Why are you here?"

"What? Not happy to see me?"

"What do you want, Irene?" He answered raising his voice and Irene reacted by letting her mask of civility slip and fall.

"I'm here for the girl." She replied simply and Angela pushed past Sherlock to look at the woman face to face.

"You want me. Why?"

"No, I don't want you. The Professor wants you." She clarified dismissively. "And I don't know why. You, of all people, should know that we're only told what is necessary to carry out our missions and nothing more."

"I thought you were dead." Sherlock chimed in from behind Angela, and she could tell from the edge in his voice that he was trying hard to control his anger.

"You were meant to." Irene returned keeping her eyes focused on Sherlock's face.

"But why? What was the purpose?" Angela intervened.

"I have no time for this. If you don't come with me now, I will have to take you by force." She replied locking her eyes on Angela's.

"You're welcome to try." Angela replied lightly, already feeling the adrenaline spreading through her body. Irene narrowed her eyes at her but didn't make a move and for a moment you could almost taste the tension in the air. A moment later, a door to their side opened and doctor Watson came walking out, running into Sherlock as he did.

"Oh, sorry." He apologized and promptly frowned when he noticed the people that had gathered in the hallway, his eyes arriving at Irene and staying there.

"You're alive?" He squawked.

"It's nice to see you too, doctor Watson." Irene replied, her demeanor changing as she found herself outnumbered by more than just one person. Angela could almost see the wheels in her head turning and she didn't doubt that the Professor had a contingency plan in case Irene didn't succeed. What she could not figure out was why he wanted her in the first place.

"So, now you're outnumbered 3 to 1. Give me a good reason why I should go with you and not take you out right here, right now." Angela offered and kept her eyes trained on her, gauging her reactions. She was angry, that much was clear, but Angela wanted to know if she indeed had another plan or if all she had was brute force.

"Angela, I don't think I have to remind you of the consequences of disobeying." Irene replied quietly.

"I no longer work for the Professor."

"You don't have to work for him in order for him to punish you."

"There's no one I care about."

"What about Thomas?" Irene replied and Angela fought the urge to slap the woman, her hand clenching at her side.

"I don't care." Was all she said and was surprised that she'd managed to keep all emotion form her voice.

"You don't mean that." Irene returned with a triumphant twinkle to her eyes. Angela remained calm in spite of it.

"I have no love for anyone I met in the facility or because of it. You could all burn, for all I care." Angela replied with a coldness she didn't feel. Thomas had been her hand to hand combat instructor but he'd also been something else her, he'd been something like a friend or as close to it as he was allowed to be. She didn't want to see him hurt, but she knew that showing any kind of emotion would give her away. Irene narrowed her eyes briefly and pursed her lips when she could get no information from her.

"Even if that's the case, I notice you have grown to care for someone else." She replied, her eyes traveling back to Holmes. Angela took a step forward in spite of herself and Irene's answering smile almost made her lose control.

"You'd have a hard time getting to him with me here."

"Yes, a hard time, but not impossible." She replied. "Things are a lot more interesting than what I expected them to be. You'll be hearing from me!" Irene threw over her shoulder as she turned on her heel and started walking down the hallway. Angela started after her, already going through the different scenarios in her head, but Holmes' hand clamping down on her arm stopped her.

"Let her go." He told her when she turned to glare at him. "Just for now."

"You realize she will come back?" She asked him, pulling her arm out of his grasp.

"I do, but I have a plan."

"Better than me killing her?"

"Yes." He replied simply and opening the door to their cabin he ushered her inside, Watson following close behind him.

Angela sat herself on the bench and turned expectantly towards Holmes. An expression of concentration had taken over his features and Angela turned her eyes to Watson who'd remained quiet since the exchange in the hallway. She couldn't help but think that they'd all be better served if she just took care of Irene Adler as soon as possible, but she would give Holmes a chance, if only to avoid adding another person to the long list of people whose lives she'd ended.

"Sherlock." She called him when minutes had passed and he hadn't said a word.

"I would like to avoid you killing Irene, if we can." He said before she even asked and Angela found herself frowning.

"Do you have feelings for her? After all she's done to you?"

"Would it stop you from killing her if I did?" He asked her pinning her with a hard stare and Angela's mouth clamped closed. Her emotions were clouding her judgement and she had to work hard to clear the fog in her head. Was this jealousy? She hadn't experienced it before but she was sure the violent feelings she was having were exactly that. Sighing, she closed her eyes and dropped her head back.

"Holmes." Watson warned him quietly, but Angela ignored the men concentrating instead on counting to ten and controlling her scattered emotions.

"Yes, Watson?"

"Don't push her."

"I'm not! She's just-"

"Just don't push her. You may not like the way she reacts." He ended quietly and Holmes expelled an exasperated sigh himself.

"Angela, you're being unreasonable."

"What did I just say, Holmes?" Watson whined and Angela finally opened her eyes.

"You're the one that's being unreasonable! Nothing good will come of keeping her alive!" Angela yelled at him, jumping out of her seat to pace the small cabin.

"Has it occurred to you that I want to keep you from killing her, not keep her alive at all?" He answered, standing up and towering over her. She didn't back away even though she had to tilt her head up in order to meet his eyes.

"Yes it did occur to me but you're a man of reason, and I don't see any reason behind it other than you having feelings for her."

"Are you insane? Or do you think I'm the one whose insane?"

"Well, what other reason could you have for not wanting me to do what I was so effectively trained to do?" She retorted and he huffed in reply.

"Exactly how slow witted are you?"

"Slow witted? Slow witted!"

"Hey!" Watson interrupted and both Sherlock and Angela turned to glare at him. "While it has been amusing watching you both drive each other insane, you are now driving me insane and that just won't do." He finished almost on a yell.

"Very well, Watson, you don't have to yell." Sherlock answered reasonably and Angela nodded her head in agreement.

"Really, now you're just being rude, doctor Watson." She concurred and Watson looked at them both like they'd lost their minds. He stood to leave their cabin but Holmes stepped in front of him.

"It would be best if we stayed together. At this point anything could be leverage for them."

Watson sat back down and crossed his arms over his chest. Angela sat down as well, feeling like the room was suddenly too hot for her to be in. Loosening her hair from the ribbon she'd tied it with she twisted it around her fingers and pinned it up with her hands. Lifting her eyes to look at Holmes she found him watching her intently and she suddenly felt too hot for very different reasons. He sat down next to her, leaning forward and dropping his face into his hands.

"I feel like I'm losing my mind." He said quietly and Angela let go of her hair to massage his back.

"That makes two of us." She added with a sigh and suppressed a smile when she heard Watson chime in.

"Three."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

They arrived in Switzerland exhausted but wary. Irene hadn't reappeared after their encounter in the hallway and Holmes hadn't allowed anyone to leave their cabin, in the interest of being safe. Angela stepped out of her cab when they arrived at their accommodations and inhaled deeply for the hundredth time since she'd been out of the train. She'd found out something new about herself: she did not like confined spaces. She'd just about lost her mind more than a few times on their way here and she was glad she was out of those four walls at last. Looking around her at her two companions she found them engaged in similar behavior. Maybe it wasn't just her, she thought.

Once they were settled in their rooms they met with Mycroft for a private dinner at his own considerably richer and grander accommodations. Angela had never really cared for what some people might call the finer things in life, she was and always had been very practical, but she found herself admiring the plush furnishings and the lavish carpets of Mycroft's dining room. It wasn't that she hadn't been around this kind of wealth before, she'd been around wealthier since it was, after all, part of her job. No, she was impressed because she'd never stopped to look at her surroundings this way before. The man himself wasn't much to look at either, but she scanned him once in her usual way out of habit and satisfied with her observations she returned to admiring the room itself.

The men all greeted each other, and Angela stayed behind them while they did until she felt Holmes' hand take her own and give her a small pull towards him.

"This is Angela Boothe." Holmes introduced her and Angela could detect something in his voice, but she couldn't tell what. Was that pride? She didn't know.

"The Ghost?" Mycroft asked Holmes but Angela answered before he could open his mouth.

"One and the same." She replied extending her hand to shake his but he just looked at it without saying a word.

"He doesn't." Holmes whispered to her and Angela closed her hand and drew it back, fixing her eyes on the man once again.

"Oh." Was all she said.

"She's a tiny little thing isn't she?" Mycroft asked Holmes once again and it made Angela wonder if he was ignoring her on purpose. It was irritating her and she thought it probably didn't bode well for the rest of their evening.

"Don't let that fool you, dear brother." Holmes replied with a smirk and added, "I've been on the receiving end of her skills and they're quite something."

Holmes looked at her and winked and Angela felt her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. She couldn't believe Holmes would make a reference like that in front of these men but they didn't seem to notice and she forced herself to push it out of her mind.

"It is a pleasure to meet you then, dear, I'm quite sure." Mycroft spoke to her directly, dispelling her theory that he was ignoring her and Angela smiled in return, glad she didn't have to deal with more drama than was necessary.

They all sat down to dinner and the conversation turned quickly from the weather and Mary's stay in Mycroft's manor to the peace summit the following night. Mycroft had procured invitations for all three of them and they accepted them without telling him that they already had invitations of their own. They didn't know what the Professor had planned and they might as well not even use those. Holmes suggested the peace summit be canceled but Mycroft insisted it wasn't possible. Angela thought he was being extremely unreasonable but she was sure no one would listen to her opinions so she concentrated on enjoying her food. She hadn't realized it before but she was starving and Mycroft's personal cook was beyond excellent. She ate everything that was on her plate and drank every glass of wine they put in front of her. By the time they retired for the night she was unsteady on her feet but extremely lighthearted.

"This is getting to be a habit." Sherlock whispered to her as he was carrying her up the stairs so that she wouldn't fall flat on her face. Angela smiled and nodded. Sherlock sighed and remained quiet up until they reached their room. He set her down on the bed gently and went in search of his pipe.

"You have your own habits." Angela commented quietly.

"I really wish you didn't turn out to be so much like me." He replied sitting on the edge of the bed next to her and taking a match to his pipe.

"I'm spending all my time with you. It's inevitable." She answered and Holmes looked at her quietly for some time. She didn't know what he was thinking but he looked, for all the world, like a man about to say goodbye. He was memorizing her face she realized and a feeling of uneasiness took up residence in the pit of her stomach. Even through her clouded thoughts she could tell that something was wrong, she just didn't know what it was.

They stayed like that for a while, the spicy smell of his tobacco permeating the air and her slow even breathing the only sound in the room. Angela felt drowsiness start to claim her but fought to stay awake, sure that if she closed her eyes if only for a minute he would be gone. Sitting up in bed, she took one of his hands and placed it against her face, inhaling the scent on his wrist as she did so. He smelled like his tobacco, spicy and masculine and she wondered what she would do if he went away. Only days before she'd been perfectly fine without him and now she didn't think she could be that way ever again. She'd changed and she wasn't sure she could go back to who she used to be. In all honesty, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Angela." He said her same softly, like an prayer, and Angela closed her eyes as she memorized the way it sounded on his lips.

"What are you planning Sherlock?" She asked him, sure that he wouldn't tell her but wanting him to know that she knew he wasn't himself. He put his pipe on the table beside the bed and turned to look at her. He didn't answer her, and his lips came down on hers slow but persistent. Angela responded passionately and reaching for the collar of his shirt she pulled him down to the bed with her, feeling his weight on her but not caring at all. She just wanted him close and as if reading her mind, he reached beneath her and wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed her against himself.

Holmes' hands took their time undressing her and she paid him the same courtesy. They were savoring each moment like it would be their last. Angela arched her back and gasped as he entered her and he clenched his jaw to keep some semblance of control. It had never been like this for him, and it was no wonder that he was losing his mind over this woman. He hugged her closer and she pushed herself up against him, both of them trying to fuse themselves with the other, finding their release soon after. Holmes collapsed on top of Angela, and rolled over to his back to keep from crushing her.

"I don't mind having your weight on me." She said quietly against his chest and felt it move beneath her cheek as he laughed.

"You can barely breathe with me on you."

"I don't care." She replied and he pulled her up to kiss her.

"What have you done to me, woman?" He murmured against her lips and smiled.

"I think I broke you, Sherlock." She replied, kissing his smile and then smiling in return.

Sherlock was sure that she'd broken him and for the first time in his life, he didn't care if he was his narcissistic-psychotic-selfish-logical self, he felt more alive than he ever had before and would enjoy it while it lasted. At that last though he felt some of his original good humor leave his body. It would all have to come to an end and sooner than he'd anticipated. Looking down he found Angela already asleep on his chest and he closed his eyes on a sigh. It was a cruel joke to find this woman only days before he had to give her up. If there was any kind of divinity up in heaven, they certainly did not like him.

As he drifted off to sleep, his mind was occupied by the brilliant smile, sharp sparkling eyes and the soft wavy hair of a Ghost.

_**NOTE:**_

**_Hello! I just wanted to thank you all for your reviews and let you know that I really appreciate them. This story is obviously coming to an end and the last few chapters will be posted in the following weeks. As always, your comments are very much appreciated._**

**_Thank you for reading!_**

**_P.S.: I wouldn't say this is my best chapter, but I wanted to get it out there before the weekend was over. The next one though, will probably be more interesting so stay tuned!_**


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The next morning Angela's body ached from her head to her limbs and a strange sense of foreboding hung over her. It woke her from a deep sleep at 4:30 in the morning and wouldn't let her rest afterwards. She slipped from the bed to the bathroom as quietly as she could and drew herself a hot bath. When the tub was almost full, she turned off the water faucet and sunk one leg slowly inside the tub. She could already feel the heat of the bath easing the pain in her muscles and she sighed contentedly.

"You seem very happy." Came the deep, if somewhat sleepy, voice of Sherlock Holmes from the door behind her. Angela jumped out of the tub and whirled around splashing water everywhere. Holmes drew a hand up to his face and covered the smile that had overtaken his lips.

"Sherlock!" Angela gasped annoyed and Sherlock's hidden smile turned into a muffled chuckle.

"May I join you?" He asked when his laughter had finally subsided.

"No." Angela replied in a huff and turning back to the tub she sunk herself into it in one swift move. Sherlock sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked incredibly tired, and somewhat anxious, making Angela wonder, not for the first time, why that was. She understood the burden that they were carrying on their shoulders, her's a lot heavier than the rest, but there was something else that was bothering him, she was sure of it.

He walked to the tub and dropping his trousers he nudged her forward and positioned himself behind her. Angela felt her skin flush at the feel of all his naked skin against hers but tried her best not to appear affected by the contact. She cleared her throat.

"You know, I have nothing to wear for tonight's event." She said quietly. "I didn't pack anything." Holmes picked up the soap and lathered up her back, massaging her as he did.

"I had Mrs. Hudson procure something for you." He replied. "It arrived yesterday."

"Oh." She replied on a sigh, his hands kneading her back in all the right places. She didn't know where he'd learned this skill but at this point she didn't really care, she was in heaven. "How did you know my measurements?"

"Please." He replied, his hands gripping her hips and then sliding upwards towards her breasts, curving as her body curved and dipping where her body dipped. Her body reacted before she did and she arched into his touch.

"I think I'm very well acquainted with your measurements, darling." He whispered into her ear and bit into it causing her to shiver against him.

"You know, if we carry on like this we're not leaving this room for a week." Angela whispered but made no move to pull herself from his arms. He shifted her closer against him and sighed.

"True." Was all he said and after a few moments of enjoying each other's company in silence they set about the task of bathing and getting out of the tub.

Angela took one of Holmes' shirts from his suitcase and pulled it over her head before settling herself on the bed to comb her hair. Sherlock donned his trousers but didn't bother to fasten them. The look was incredibly attractive and Angela tried no to stare, an endeavor that proved extremely difficult given the fact that he was walking toward her to join her on the bed.

"I have to speak with you about something." He said as he got into bed with her.

"What is it?"

"I don't know if you remember, you did say it when you were half asleep, but you spoke about the facility once."

"I did? I don't recall." He nodded.

"I had some of my...associates, look into it for me." He cleared his throat and Angela thought he looked nervous. "It proved to be a difficult task, the gathering of information and whatnot, but they did find something."

"What exactly did I say?" She asked now curious. Something had been bothering her since her first meeting after she'd switched sides but she didn't think she'd mentioned anything to him about it.

"It doesn't matter." He said quickly and continued on. "They've begun a new program in the facility."

"I was told about a new level but not what that level is." Angela agreed.

"Well, apparently that level is...a breeding program." Holmes finished quietly and remained silent, letting what he'd said sink in.

A breeding program. The thought was almost too much for Angela to comprehend and yet it didn't surprise her. The Professor was capable of anything and a breeding program for super soldiers was really something she should have seen coming, it was the next logical step. All at once Angela was angry and she didn't know why. Maybe it was the fact that she'd been told that she would be subject to that new "level" or maybe it was the fact that for the first time ever she saw herself as a human being and not just a tool, but whatever it was, it was making her want to rid the world of the facility and the program and the professor in one fell swoop.

She came back to herself when she felt Holmes' hands on hers removing the comb and unclenching her fingers. She'd been gripping the comb so tightly that it had cut into her hand and it had begun to bleed. Holmes went to the bathroom and returned promptly with a piece of fabric that he wrapped around her hand to stop the bleeding. It occurred to Angela that they should probably call doctor Watson but she preferred if they didn't do so, she didn't feel like getting dressed this early in the morning either way.

"Angela? Are you alright?" Holmes asked her concerned and Angela nodded in reply. In reality, she wasn't alright but she was already working on a plan and once she carried it out, she would be back to normal. Holmes sighed beside her.

"I debated wether I should tell you about all this." He said finally. "Maybe I shouldn't have."

"You were right to tell me." She said finally and turned to look at him. "I'm alright."

Holmes scrutinized her face for some minutes and Angela let herself be scrutinized because she knew he wouldn't let the matter go until he saw that she was, in fact, alright. He nodded once after a few minutes and settling himself beneath the covers he pulled her down with him. Angela tucked herself against his chest and closed her eyes, letting the matter go as sleep overtook her anew.

"You worry about me far too much, Mr. Holmes." She said sleepily and Holmes was surprised by how fast she could go form raging mad to calm and drowsy. It wasn't normal, but then again he wasn't normal either.

They only slept for a few more hours before they woke up starving and ready to break their fast. Angela donned the one blouse she'd brought with her, cream colored silk, and a gray wool skirt with a soft bustle. She didn't know the kind of dress that Mrs. Hudson had sent for her but she hoped it at least suited her style. If she had to wear a ridiculously ruffled concoction to tonight's peace summit she would just as well wear one of Sherlock's white tails and a top hat. She chuckled to herself as she pictured the men's faces if they saw her in that outfit.

"Something funny?" Sherlock asked her as they left the room and headed for Mycroft's.

"Nothing at all." Angela replied linking her arm with his. If somebody had told her a week before that she would be playing honeymooner with Sherlock Holmes she would never have believed them and yet here she was. The thought brought a new wave of anxiety to the pit of her stomach. The fact that Sherlock was even acting like this at all was indication enough that something wasn't right. She knew ti couldn't be what he'd told her that morning or else he would be a lot calmer by now. No, it had to be something different and she didn't know what it was but she would figure it out before the event or else she feared that it would be too late.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The day had gone by in a whirl of planning and re-planning the evening's activities. Sherlock was withholding his plans, as was the usual way with him, but they'd all agreed that it would most likely be an assassination by a lone gunman at close range, in order to spark an international feud. Their problem was that they knew very little about Moriarty's plans, or rather, that everyone except the great Sherlock Holmes was at a loss about Moriarty's plans. Angela herself knew little more than doctor Watson and the other Holmes since she was aware that Sherlock had gathered information about Moriarty's finances and the facility. What he planned to do with that information was hidden from her as well, although she could make an educated guess, no doubt.

Angela's thoughts came to an abrupt halt when she walked out of her second bath of the day and found herself staring at a beautiful raw silk gown that had been laid out on the bed for her. Tentatively, she stepped closer and was overwhelmed by feelings of gratitude and embarrassment as she realized that Holmes had been more observant of her than she'd initially thought. The dress itself was beautiful and Angela smiled as her fingers traced the fabric lightly. It was dark blue with gold piping and short sleeves that ended just past her shoulder. The neckline was far more revealing than what she knew some of the other women would wear, it was low and went down in a wide scoop that was incredibly flattering, if a little scandalous. This dress had a full bustle, no doubt Mrs. Hudson's own input, but Angela loved it anyways. It suited her.

Beside the dress were a pair of dark blue silk satin gloves and matching slippers. Angela donned the dress over her petticoat and corset and slipped on the gloves and slippers. Normally she would dress for a purpose, a cause, be it seduction, deception or practicality but this was something very different. This time she was dressing up not just because it was necessary but because she wanted to feel beautiful and she did. Sighing contentedly she walked over to her vanity mirror and contemplated what to do with her hair. She disliked elaborate up-dos but couldn't see any way to avoid them this evening. She decided to go with a clean high bun and a lone decorative braid twirled around it. Setting herself to the task she finished it quickly and effortlessly. Practice most certainly made perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, Angela shifted in her chair and found Holmes observing her from the entrance to their room. She hadn't even heard him as he walked up the hallway.

"You keep doing that." She sighed and gave him a smile which he returned as he walked towards her, hands tucked behind his back.

"I have something for you." He said standing behind her and turning her to face the mirror. From a small velvet box in his hand he pulled out a cream and deep blue cameo in an ornate pearl and gold setting. It hung on a matching gold silk ribbon. Angela stared at it while he placed around her neck and tied the ribbon. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen and it made her uneasy to think about the amount of money he must've spent on the item.

"It was my mother's." He said, as if he could read her mind. His fingers lingered on her neck and Angela closed her eyes enjoying the sensation.

"It's beautiful, Sherlock. Are you sure you want me to wear it?"

"I want you to have it."

"I couldn't do that, it has too much value." Angela replied, a hand rising up instinctively to cover the item.

"Either Mycroft or myself were supposed to give it to our chosen mates...when we found them. Neither of us thought we would find anything of the sort and to be honest, we were perfectly content to live out our lives without one. When I met you, I..." He trailed off and Angela didn't push him to continue. She knew what he'd been about to say and her heart swelled with an unfamiliar but pleasant emotion. "Anyway," he continued, "it suits you."

"Thank you, Sherlock." Angela stood in front of him and he reached out to her and pulled her close, his forehead resting on hers. He had been affectionate with her before but this felt different. It was as if he couldn't miss an opportunity to hold her and while she enjoyed it, it was making her uneasy.

"Whatever happens tonight," he swallowed, "promise me you won't do anything reckless."

"What's going to happen tonight?" She pushed herself away from him. "And what exactly do you mean by reckless?"

He reached out to her again, but this time she managed to avoid his hands. She studied his face, unreadable as ever, and it only fueled her suspicions. Enough was enough, she thought to herself, and she marched over to the door and shut it in order to keep their conversation private.

"Let's have it. What are you planning?" It came out rougher than she's meant it to but she stood her ground. This wringing of her hands while Sherlock went about his business was completely unlike her and she wouldn't let it go any further. When he still didn't answer she held his eyes with hers and quirked up a brow.

"I believe I asked you a question."

"What would you like me to say?"

"You could start with the truth."

"It's nothing!" He replied exasperated. "I'm just taking precautions." He tucked his hands inside his pockets and Angela took a moment to admire him in his formal-wear. He looked more handsome than she'd ever seen him and that was saying something. His hair was combed and he'd shaved, which made him look like a respectable member of society. She loved his whiskered jaw and messy hair but she had to admit this look also had its benefits. Clearing her throat she shook the thought out of her head. It was exactly this line of thought that always derailed her from the real problem and she wouldn't allow herself to be derailed this time.

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Sherlock."

"I'm not!" He ran his hands through his hair in what she'd come to recognize as an exasperated gesture. He'd just about had it with her but Angela could not, for the life of her, back off.

"Look," he managed finally and sat himself on the edge of the bed, "this is not what I wanted for this evening."

"If you would just tell me-"

"Enough!" He stood abruptly and left the room without giving her a second look.

Angela stood rooted to the spot, stunned into silence. He'd never been this rough with her, not even in the beginning and she hated that it had caught her so completely off guard. She had half a mind to take off the necklace he'd given her but couldn't make herself actually go through with it. What was keeping her from going after him, from taking the necklace off, from giving him a piece of her mind, she didn't know. From somewhere inside her she could feel him slipping away, but the thought was so lost between years and years of suppressed emotions that it might as well not be a thought at all. She took a moment to calm herself, her hand unconsciously reaching up to hold the cameo, and within minutes she was back to her usual self, doing what she did best. Curtain up, was the last thought in her head before leaving the room.

Holmes, on the other hand, could think of nothing else. Now more than ever, he was sure of his feelings for her but he couldn't articulate them anymore. It had seemed so much easier before when it had been just the two of them in Paris. Now, when he knew all that was at stake and what he'd have to do in order to ensure everything went as planned, the words just wouldn't come. All he could do was reach out to her and hold her and now not even that. Truth was, he wanted to tell her, all of it, but it would put her in danger afterwards and that was something he couldn't allow. Not for her and not for Watson. He knew that John would never let Angela do anything to put herself in harms way but then, he also knew Angela and John was no match for her.

Sighing he made his way to the lobby of the hotel. The others would arrive soon and he and Angela wouldn't have any more time alone. It was just as well, if she was angry with him, it would make it so much easier for her to move on with her life.

As he lit his pipe, he shook his head in dismay. Angela would never let this go, he knew that. He could only hope that the damage she would cause wouldn't consume her as well.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Watson twirled Angela around the dance floor making the skirt of her dress rise around her in a cloud of dark blue silk. He held her at a respectable distance throughout the dance, his eyes darting occasionally to a sullen looking Holmes leaning against the south wall of the ballroom. Angela pursed her lips to hide a smile.

"Why are you smiling? What did you see?" His eyes darted back to Holmes, but he wasn't even looking their way anymore.

"Just you worrying yourself over nothing."

"It's not nothing." He replied giving her an admonishing look. Angela shrugged her shoulder with an indifference she didn't feel.

"Can you honestly tell me you have no idea what he's feeling?" He continued.

"I have an idea, yes. However, it is just that and nothing more."

"He hasn't told you?"

"He did tell me once." Watson twirled her around once more and Angela caught a glimpse of dark hair and scarlet skirts approaching Sherlock. Watson pulled her back.

"She's here."

"Adler?"

"Yes, of course, Adler." Angela replied exasperated and pushing herself out of his arms she made her way towards her. Irene would have been the first one to go if she had her way. She knew Holmes didn't want her going back to her old ways but even if they did manage to stop Moriarty, his followers would never leave them alone. As she neared her, Angela's eyes darted over to where Holmes had been leaning before and she found he'd left. She paused as the uneasiness she'd been feeling for the past few days grew into full blown panic.

Irene Adler forgotten, Angela turned and found Watson making his way to her, a concerned look on her face.

"I can't find Sherlock."

Watson's brow creased but he didn't scan the room for his friend. Angela closed her eyes and pushed down on her panic.

"Yes, I know." He replied, not meeting her eyes.

"Where is he?"

"He has a plan, as do we. He gave me instructions to-"

"It's his plans I'm worried about."

"He will be fine. You and I both know that if someone can handle himself on his own it's Holmes." He placed a soothing hand on her shoulder, but it did nothing to calm Angela's nerves. Looping his arms with hers, Watson led her to the outskirts of the dance floor where they could easily watch most of the people in the room. Angela closed her eyes and tried to calm her nerves. For the hundredth time she admonished herself about the dangers of developing feelings for another human being and even as she did she had to recognize it was too late. It was too late and she couldn't do anything for Sherlock unless she focused. Opening her eyes once more she began to scan the room.

Their side of the plan involved finding the shooter. Her particular plan involved much more than that but she would take care of that later on, when she was sure they'd succeeded in stopping Moriarty. She was startled out of her thoughts by a hand at her waist. Without turning around she already knew who's hand it was and immediately her panic subsided.

"I need to talk to you."

"I thought we were staying true to the plan."

"We are. I just need five minutes with you." His hand grasped hers and abruptly she was pulled away from Watson through a series of rooms and corridors until they arrived at a deserted hallway, so far removed from the ballroom you could barely hear the music.

"Sherlock." Was the only word she could say without choking, because she knew that even though her panic had left her for now, it would return and she wasn't sure she would be able to handle it. For the first time in a long time she wished she'd never met this man and she'd never come to name her feelings because she was crumbling underneath the weight of them.

"Angela." His hands cupped her face and his body pinned hers against the wall. "You cannot fall apart."

"I'm trying."

"I didn't say you have to try not to fall apart, Angela, I said that you cannot fall apart. I can't do my job if you do. Do you understand?"

Angela clung to him while she attempted to clear her thoughts but with him standing so close to her it was almost impossible to do. She swallowed hard and drew on strength she hadn't even known she'd had in order to pull herself together.

"I won't fall apart. I promise." She locked her eyes with his and gave him a smile. His hold on her eased and the tension in his face abated.

"Good." He smiled at her in return but it didn't reach his eyes. It was all Angela could do not to beat his plan out of him, but she managed to keep herself in check. She'd promised she would keep herself together and the training she'd received her entire life would get her through it if it was the last thing she did. She nodded once in agreement and Sherlock's smile widened.

"It will all be over soon, darling." He pulled her sharply against himself and locked his arms around her waist. Leaning down he touched his lips with hers in a lingering kiss. Angela's reaction was far more passionate and locking her arms around his neck she deepened the kiss. Sherlock broke taway as gently as he could but all too soon, and he smiled at Angela's flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. He never got tired of her reactions to him and a sudden sadness gripped him as he realized he would miss this the most.

"I love you, woman." He sighed. "If nothing else...you should always remember that." He gave her one more kiss on the lips before he walked down the hallway so fast Angela barely had time to catch her breath. When the fog had finally cleared, he was already gone.

"Sherlock." She could only manage a whisper, but the depth of her feeling went along with it.

"Oh, isn't that sweet."

Angela felt all the emotion drain out of her, replaced with the cool and calculating woman she'd grown so accustomed to being.

"Irene."

"Excellent deduction. Care to venture another one?" She replied sarcastically, her mouth spreading into a shiver inducing grin.

"I don't waste my time."

"You think you're better than I am?" Irene asked her as she walked slowly around her, gauging her. Angela did not return the favor, this one she'd weighed and measured a long time ago and one glance was was all she needed to know that not much had changed.

"I know I am." Irene laughed at her and Angela wondered for the first time what Sherlock had ever seen in this woman. Even if Angela was calculating, manipulative and had produced more than her fair share of corpses, she'd done so only when it had proved absolutely necessary. Irene was different, she liked to play with her victims before she took them down. It was the mark of a psychopath, to be sure.

"You don't think we're the same, you and I? Because we are, you know."

"If it helps you sleep at night, Irene."

"Even if you don't believe that, he certainly does."

Angela didn't bother answering her. She was looking for a nerve and Angela had only very recently developed one, her years of training could outweigh one emotion. Besides, she'd also promised Sherlock.

"You're delusional, Angela, if you think he can forget who you are. And it is who you are."

"It is who I was."

"You're fooling yourself. You're proving it right now. The way you're looking at me, I know exactly what you're planning."

Angela cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, waiting. Irene was trying to weaken her with emotion but the only thing she was succeeding at was working herself into a fuss. Angela almost laughed out loud at the pathetic display she was making.

"Enough, Irene. Let's put an end to this now so that I can get back to the ballroom." Angela took a step toward her and saw panic flash across her features. It was unlike her and it almost made her pause. Almost. In one swift move Angela drew her knife, knocked the gun Irene had drawn from underneath her dress out of her hand and pinned her hands together behind her back, her knife resting gently against her throat.

"Any last words?" Angela said lightly, all emotion apparently absent from her.

"Do you think he will still love you when he knows what you've done here?"

Angela sighed with disappointment. Of all the things a person could say before they died and Irene being such an interesting, if somewhat deluded, human being, she'd thought her parting words would be far more riveting.

"Oh, Irene. I give you a chance to say last words - a kindness really - and this is what you say? It's extremely disappointing."

"Very well. How's this for last words?" She felt her swallow hard against the edge of her knife. "You're. Still. Too. Late."

In an instant Angela understood that Irene had been a distraction to keep her away from Sherlock, but the panic didn't come. No feelings came at all, except the certainty that she had to do something before it was too late.

"It's too late for you, but for everybody's else's sake I hope that's not true." A shot rang out and muffled screams came from the general direction of the ballroom.

"It wouldn't make a difference, would it? You'd kill us all just the same." Angela's knife slid easily against Irene's throat, the blood tumbling out slowly and quietly.

"You know," Angela sighed, leaning down to wipe her knife clean on Irene's skirts, "I believe you're right." Without giving the bloody remains of Irene Adler another thought, she turned and sprinted for the ballroom hoping against all hope that she wasn't indeed still too late.

**NOTE:**

**Hello, everybody. If you're still reading I want you to know that I am deeply grateful for your patience. These last few weeks have been all about midterms but thankfully, exams are over for now.**

**As you can probably tell, this story is coming to an end and I've been thinking about writing one for John, although I'm not sure the spin I'm going give it. Please let me know if it's something you're interested in reading.**

**Once again, thank you for reading!**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Angela found the doctor first, kneeling over the body of a man who looked incredibly familiar but completely foreign to her at the same time. Looking him over carefully she finally recognized him as Moriarty's second in command and frowned. Something had obviously gone awry with Moriarty's plan. Her eyes scanned the crowd that had gathered around the fallen man and the doctor, looking for Sebastian Moran. The Professor wouldn't risk going through with a plan like this only to leave the most important part to someone who was merely second best, he would at least make sure there was adequate supervision. Finally she found him retreating through a side door, and a second later he was gone. She wanted to go after him, but Irene's words echoed loudly inside her head._ You're still too late_.

"John!" She yelled over to the doctor as she made her way towards him, her eyes roaming over the crowd searching every face for the one she wanted.

"Crisis averted, no one got hurt." The doctor informed her as she knelt beside him. "We have lost our star witness, however."

Angela glanced at the man lying on the floor. The Professor wouldn't allow even one shred of evidence to go unchecked, she'd known that already, but she would worry about that later. She had to find Holmes.

"Where's Sherlock?"

"I'm not sure but I have a good idea where to find him." His eyes finally lifted to her face and a crease formed between his brows. Raising his hand slowly, his fingers touched her cheekbone and his frown deepened. Angela looked down at his fingers and understood his reaction, but there was no time to explain.

"Angela, were you hurt?"

"Not me, no." she replied quietly as she wiped at her face. It had only been a little bit of blood and she was sure she'd wiped it clean this time.

"Who?"

"I don't have time to explain now. Please, take me to Sherlock."

"I have to take this man out to a cab first. We'll go find him after that." Nodding once, he stood to talk to the two guards who'd been arresting the man before Moran shot him down with a poisoned dart. Frustration rose in Angela's chest but she tamped it down, they would find Sherlock soon enough. What kind of trouble could he have gotten himself into in such a short period of time, she thought, he'd only been gone an hour at the most. _You're still too late_.

Angela stood and shook the thought out of her head. A few minutes later the doctor returned and lead her away from the crowd through a series of maze-like corridors.

"There are a few balconies in this building. Three to be precise." He turned left and then right down a long, empty hallway. "He said he would be at a balcony but I don't know which one."

"Wasn't there one overlooking the Falls just outside the ballroom?"

"Yes, but I doubt he would choose such an accessible one for what he was planning to do." He paused halfway down the hall. "Or...I don't know. Maybe you're right, we should go and see if he's in the balcony off the ballroom first." Abruptly, he turned and walked back in the direction they'd been coming from, dragging Angela with him as he did. She didn't know what had triggered his anxiousness, maybe it'd been the nervous set of her own face, but whatever it was, he was nearly running now and it only increased her own sense of foreboding. Not too long ago he'd been reassuring her of Holmes' ability to keep himself safe and now he was practically sprinting.

"So, will you tell me what happened?" He asked her while they made their way back. Angela hadn't been expecting it and for a moment it caught her off guard.

"What?"

"The blood on your face."

"Oh." Angela replied absently. "That."

"Yes." They were nearing the hallway with the crowd and Angela wished they reached it soon so that she wouldn't have to explain to this honorable and decent man how she'd killed Irene Adler in cold blood and at close range, which somehow only made it seem worse than it probably was.

"It wasn't my blood."

"Who's was it?" He asked curiously and Angela was glad he didn't turn his face to look at her as he asked her that question.

"Irene's."

This time he did stop to look at her and for a moment Angela felt what she should've been feeling all along, shame and guilt. It only lasted for a moment but it was enough to soften the doctor's reaction to her news.

"How are you feeling?" He asked her resuming their earlier pace and Angela was glad he wasn't looking at her anymore. The truth was she wasn't feeling much of anything at this point. What she needed was to find Sherlock. She knew her numbness wouldn't last much longer after that, as was always the way with her. She could manage to fulfill her missions easily enough and without giving it much thought. Her emotions always managed to find her though, sometimes minutes and sometimes hours after she'd done something, but they always came and she knew this time would be no different.

"Right now, I just want to find him." She replied quietly and Watson looked at her and nodded once before turning the corner and reuniting with the crowd. They pushed past the people at the entrance of the ballroom, considerably less people than there'd been there before. They managed to catch a glimpse of Mycroft's nervous face between the masses of people but they pressed on.

Watson reached the door leading to the balcony first and pulled it open in time to see Holmes take Moriarty into a stranglehold, using the railing as leverage. Angela stumbled into his back as they both tried to make their way inside the door.

In later months, when she replayed the event in her mind she would notice the overturned pieces of chess on the board and rolling to the floor, she would be able to hear the loud rumbling noise of the falls and feel the humidity on her skin. That night though, all she could see was the look in Holmes' eyes as he bid them both a silent goodbye before pushing himself and his opponent over the railing.

Angela ran after him and would've thrown herself over if Watson hadn't gripped her waist so tightly that she'd been bruised for days after. She'd come to know and feel an overwhelming amount of emotions over the course of days - or was that weeks? - since she'd known Sherlock Holmes. Even so, she hadn't been prepared for what she would feel when she'd seen him throw himself willingly into oblivion. It was rage. Pure, unadulterated rage and it consumed her in such a way that it found its way out of her mouth and into the cold night air.

"God damn you, Sherlock Holmes!" The scream ripped violently out of her throat, taking both her and Watson off guard. He loosened his grip on her and Angela ran the rest of the way to the railing. Watson reached her in time to hold her back.

"Damn you! Damn you, Sherlock!" Angela held on to the railing, her knuckles turning white from the force of her grip.

The blood was pounding in her ears and she could hear nothing over the sound of her own labored breathing. That voice though, her voice, managed to find a way through. A sad pathetic whimper escaped her lips as Watson pulled her back against him and held her as the tears fell unbidden down her face.

_I told you, too late_.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Watson knocked on the door of 221B Baker Street at about 9 'o clock in the morning. The air was cold and crisp, and the sky was clear, or about as clear as the sky ever was in London. The streets were also coming alive with people and the whole day seemed filled with promise, completely opposite to the feelings he was harboring. Only three months after Sherlock's fateful fall, the hurt and confusion were still fresh in his mind and he struggled every day with his friend's absence. Turning to the now opening doorway he sighed and greeted Mrs. Hudson, thinking that no matter how dark his feelings were, they at least were not as dark as Angela's had become.

After the usual greetings and small talk, Watson ascended the stairs to what used to be Sherlock's and now was Angela's room. Walking through the sitting room he noticed the cleanliness and order that now dominated the room instead of the old chaos and pipe ash that had previously covered every surface. Of course he knew that only meant that Angela had chosen to keep the mess confined to her room and he wondered for about the hundredth time if she'd always been this similar to Holmes or if she had adopted his habits through observation.

For a moment he stood before the door to her room, hat grasped nervously in his hands, and head bent low. If anybody saw them, they'd assume their relationship was a lot more intimate than a man and woman's who weren't family or married should be and they would be right, but not entirely. He and Angela had developed a bond, similar to what existed between a brother and a sister, and they'd become close enough that he felt he needed to look after her and care for her in much the same way he'd done for his friend. This was considerably different, however, and he dreaded going into her room because it drained him in a way that no other person or activity could accomplish.

Sighing he finally turned the knob and plunged into the pitch blackness of the room.

"Angela?" He whispered and got only a soft huff in reply from the general direction of the bed. Walking towards the opposite side of the room as carefully as he could, he went to open the curtains and let the light of day in.

"Don't!" Came a muffled voice from beneath the covers but he ignored it and before she could protest any further he pulled the curtains open wide.

"Oh!" Angela gasped and rolled quickly to her side, covering her face with a pillow. Watson took in the room, pleased to find it as clean and orderly as the sitting room.

Lowering his eyes he corrected his earlier thoughts as he took in the several bottles of wine that lined the bottom of the bed.

"Well...at least the room's still here." He mumbled quietly and removing his coat and throwing it on a nearby chair with his hat, he bent to pick the bottles up.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't now, you might've drunk the room as well." He mocked her and received a pillow to his head as a reward.

"Oh, you're so amusing!" Angela replied sarcastically and pushing the covers aside, she stood from the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

Watson took the bottles to the trash can in the kitchen down the stairs and waited for Mrs. Hudson to prepare a tray of breakfast for Angela. He'd been surprised to find her much better than he had in the three preceding months. She'd been an emotional wreck for the first few weeks, barely bathing or eating, and drinking like it was the end of the world. Afterwards she'd slipped, so to speak, into Holmes' old skin, taking to his habits and his work with an ease that had surprised both him and Holmes' old clients.

Taking the tray from Mrs. Hudson, Watson climbed back up the stairs and set it on the tea table in the sitting room. He wouldn't have her eating in bed if he could help it and today she was supposed to meet with Lestrade for his latest case.

Angela swept into the sitting room fully dressed with her hair pulled back into a braid. Watson was once again surprised by her seemingly abrupt change in attitude. Just last week she'd been a dark, teary eyed emotional mess with a considerable drinking problem and now here she was, pink cheeked and sparkly eyed, still with a drinking problem, but she was improving.

"Not that I'm complaining, but, why are you so happy?"

He sat down in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace and Angela sat in the chair opposite him with the air of a woman who had her life together. It made him suspicious.

"He's alive." She said quietly and a smile spread across her face. Watson swallowed hard as he realized that what had appeared as a change in attitude was more likely a psychotic break.

"Angela..."

"No, I'm not crazy. Don't look at me that way." She took a sip of her tea and set the cup down. "I saw him."

"I think you're overwhelmed, emotionally and-"

"I saw him, Watson."

"And the stress of losing the first person you ever came to love-"

"Oh...I should've known." Angela sighed with bitter disappointment. "You don't believe me."

"Well, if you were in my position you wouldn't either."

"Will you at least allow me to tell you what happened?"

"Of course, but Lestrade will be here any minute-"

"It won't take long." Angela interrupted him quickly and added. "But you should know that after meeting with Lestrade I will be leaving for a few months."

"Months? What about your clients?"

"The only client I have left now is Lestrade and I won't be taking anymore on."

"Just tell me what happened." Watson replied exasperated with a dismissive wave of his hand. Everyday she resembled Sherlock more and more, the only difference being that she took care to warn him of her disappearances.

"Very well." She cleared her throat. "Last night, I was admittedly very inebriated."

"I wonder why." Watson commented quietly picking up the day's newspaper and earning himself a glare from his companion.

"I was in the sitting room with the fireplace as the only source of light and out of the corner of my eye I saw a shadow. Everything was blurry and I could barely keep my head up but I saw him come out of the shadows and walk over to me. He kneeled in front of me and he spoke to me."

"What did he say?"

"He asked me if I thought this was me not falling apart, to which I replied that it could be so much worse. I felt him, Watson, felt him brush the hair back from my face and he said that he would be back when he knew Moriarty's organization was no longer a threat."

"I see."

"So you believe me?"

"Of course not." He replied and Angela huffed indignantly in response.

"You were drunk!" He explained setting down his newspaper. He'd only indulged her story telling so he could gauge just how much emotional and psychological damage she was suffering from.

"Be that as it may, I'm leaving in a week to take care of the remnants of Moriarty's organization. I should've done it a long time ago."

"Is there anything I can say that will stop you?" Watson asked her running an anxious hand through his short hair.

"No and you know better than to try."

"Very well." He added on a sigh. "You will be careful, yes?"

"Of course." She replied finally relaxing into her chair.

The doorbell rang and moments later Lestrade walked into the sitting room. In the beginning many people had doubted her ability to fill, so to speak, Sherlock Holmes' place because she was a woman, but Lestrade had been very open minded about the whole situation. Since then he'd consulted her frequently about his cases and in return he'd helped her acquire clients. Not that she needed any really, she had enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life from her previous work as Moriarty's Ghost, but Watson had wanted to find her a job that would keep her busy. This had just been the perfect solution.

Angela sat back to listen to Lestrade's description of the crime scene with patience. In just a few day's time she'd be on her way end Moriarty's organization and the facility. After that it would only be a matter of time until she could see Sherlock again. If she was being truthful with herself, she was ashamed of her behavior throughout these last three months. She'd never been the kind of person who crumbled beneath the weight of emotional distress and yet she'd become a burden to all who knew her. She would rectify with all of them, but first she had to take one last trip into her past. If it happened that she managed to find Sherlock as a result as well, well that was good too.

_Sherlock observed from the street in front of apartment 221B as Lestrade entered his old apartment. Within minutes he could see him entering the sitting room through the window in the second story of the building. His thoughts flashed back to night before and what had transpired there between him and Angela. _

_He would never admit this to her but he'd expected to find her asleep in her bed, a smile on her face and a life of promise in front of her. Instead, he was ashamed to find he felt a slight twinge of satisfaction at seeing her suffer the loss of him so much that she'd turned to drink to drown out her feelings. He wasn't proud, but at least now he knew he wasn't suffering as much as he was and doing it alone._

_He'd even talked to her, unprepared as he was for the overwhelming wave of longing that had swept through him upon seeing her sleepy face, cheeks flushed from the wine she'd been drinking. If she hadn't been as far gone as she was she would have never let him leave, hell, she would've pinned him to the floor and beat him mercilessly in a heartbeat. He was glad that hadn't been the case, but he still wanted to trade places with any of the people currently living in any kind of proximity to her and he would gladly take the beating if it meant that he could._

_The gray beard he was wearing in order to hid his face was incredibly itchy and he scratched at it absently as thoughts of Angela's wide sparkling eyes filled his head, but he couldn't do away with it just yet. He still had to find his way home._

_His hands had itched to touch her and he'd done nothing to stop them last night. Her hair was soft in his hands and he smiling, blushing face had almost done him in. He wasn't a monster though and when he felt himself losing control, he'd bolted from the place. But not too far._

_He realized that last night had probably been a mistake, but he hadn't been able to keep away. It was a miracle in itself that he'd managed to stay away from her for as long as he had but last night the urge to see her, to make sure she was alright had proved a lot stronger than his rational and logical mind. So he'd gone to see her._

_Sherlock turned his gaze away from the apartment and began the short walk to his own accommodations, his thoughts taking a hold of his conscious mind. He hadn't expected to find her as she was, a wreck by any and all definitions. He'd heard she'd taken over his work and he'd been glad that she'd stayed true to her word and not fallen apart, but it seemed that she'd learned a lot more about his habits that he cared to teach. He couldn't and wouldn't judge her because of her drinking, after all he had a less than desirable escape as well, but he wanted to keep her from that if he could and he assured himself that he would, eventually._

_Turning into his own street he observed all the people that came near him with the sharpness and weariness that had become so natural to him of late. He would be free of this life soon if he had any say in it._

_One thing was sure, he thought as he ascended the stairs to his cramped apartment, it was all a small price to pay to keep Moriarty where he belonged: six feet under and dead as a doornail._


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

_It was dark and cold in the alley when Angela barreled through the door and stumbled outside. She ran as fast as she could, and as far as she could, from the building she'd just exited. In just a few minutes it would be engulfed in flames and she would have her peace at last._

_It had taken her nearly four months to track, capture and kill all the important people in Moriarty's organization. It had taken her an additional month to find the new hiding place for the facility, but she'd found that too, and was now in the process of burning it all down. As the building exploded behind her and she was pushed by the force of it onto the floor, she thought the method of destruction was very apropos. It had been hell for her and it had been hell for the half-dozen boys and girls she'd found in there, it was only natural it was destroyed by fire._

_By far the most taxing and time consuming of her recent endeavors had been taking all those boys and girls and making sure they had safe homes and were provided for. In any case, she'd set up an emergency fund to cover their needs if they should run into hard times, and she would make the occasional visit to be certain that things were going according to plan. _

_Picking herself up off the floor she dusted off her clothes and turned to look at the burning building. It was hard to believe it had taken her so long to see the madness in all of it. It had taken another half-mad man, a doctor and a lot of heartache for her to see it, but she finally had. She knew the feelings of guilt that had found their way into her heart would remain there forever, but she also knew that with some time, she and all the other people like her, would begin to heal._

_Glancing at the building one last time, she turned and pulled up the collar of her coat. Now came the truly difficult part: finding Sherlock Holmes. It'd been almost eight months since that night on the balcony and only five since that one time he'd appeared before her in the sitting room of 221B. The memory of it grew blurrier as time passed, but she could still feel his fingers tangled in her hair, could still smell his particular brand of tobacco. She couldn't be sure the memory was a memory at all, but her instincts had yet to steer her in the wrong direction and they were telling her he was still alive._

_The hotel loomed in front of her and she rushed to the other side of the street towards the entrance. It was the same hotel she'd stayed at when she and Holmes had visited Paris. She'd never considered herself sentimental or nostalgic but evidently people changed. Angela greeted the doorman and slipped inside, finally free from what she felt was her ultimate duty. She'd destroyed the organization and she'd eliminated the facility. Of course, Holmes would never accept her way of going about things but he wasn't here to say anything either way._

_Her room was as tidy as when she'd left it, barely having stayed here at all. She peeled off her clothes and threw them on a nearby chair. Settling herself inside the tub after drawing herself a warm bath, she let her mind wander as she pondered where Sherlock was, if he was alive at all. If he was alive, she would find him. If it killed her, she would find him. At the very least she owed him a heartfelt "thank you", not just for saving her life but for making her human again. Before him she'd been a shadow, a specter, a Ghost, and now she was living, breathing and in full color._

_Soaping herself up she smiled as she contemplated the look on his face when he saw her. Even when she was trying to be realistic and practical, allowing for the possibility that he might not be alive at all, her heart superseded logic and she found herself daydreaming about what it would be like when they saw each other again. She shook her head. First things first, she would sleep tonight and tomorrow the hunt would begin anew, but this time for something far more valuable to time she'd be searching for her heart._

Sherlock stopped in front of his new living arrangements and glanced around. All day long he'd been feeling like there was somebody watching him from the shadows, but when he looked around there was no one to be found. Now, standing in front of his building, his heart rate picked up and the sense that there was something amiss took hold of him. He couldn't explain it, but there it was. His entire life he'd prided himself on being observant and meticulous in his deductions, even more so as of late, and still he couldn't explain the source of this newest feeling. It wasn't so much uneasiness as it was-what was it? Was this excitement? He wasn't sure, it had been so long since he felt anything but fear and apprehension.

Finding there was no point in standing in front of the building as he was, he climbed the stairs to his apartment and opened the door. As soon as he stepped in he realized he wasn't alone. He removed the gun he'd been concealing and moved quietly about the apartment, the gun held firmly in front of him, ready to shoot anything that so much as moved in the shadows.

Two steps into his bedroom he paused and sniffed the air. This scent was familiar. No, it was more than familiar, it was permanently imprinted on his brain since the first time he ever came into contact with it. This was Angela. Lowering his gun, he put it on the bedside table and sat heavily on the bed.

"You found me."

"You should've known I would." Came the familiar voice.

"I was hoping you wouldn't."

Silence dominated the room and it was a few minutes before either of them spoke. It'd been such a long time since they last saw each other that any words seemed completely meaningless.

"You obviously don't read the papers." She said finally, as if it had taken her some time to compose herself and instantly he felt the accustomed pangs of guilt that appeared whenever he thought of what she might have suffered.

"I do but you can't trust the official story half the time. I don't believe everything the newspapers write."

"This time you should."

Realization dawned on him and he sighed as what he should've realized a long time ago was only just taking shape inside his head. He'd read about deaths, many of them, within Moriarty's organization, but he just assumed it was a scheme to convince people that the organization had died off and then start anew, under a new leader. Most of all, he'd hoped that Angela would never return to her old ways, least of all because of him. This was certainly disappointing news. He sighed again.

"You're disappointed." She stated and it was followed by an almost inaudible sigh. "I'm sorry." She whispered and he could hear the cold edge to her voice. She obviously thought that what she'd done was necessary and he couldn't blame her, but he wished she didn't have to resort to it.

"Don't be. You did what you thought was right, that's nothing to be sorry for. Lord knows I've done what I believed was right and payed a heavy price for it."

"Do you regret it?" Her voice was a lot closer this time and he could feel his heart beat faster at the thought of having her near him. A small smile claimed his lips as he realized that even all this time apart hadn't been enough to change his feelings toward her. He was a damaged man indeed.

"I don't." He replied and it was true. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt the people that cared about him. Certainly he didn't want to hurt Angela, but he was nothing if a man of principle and that would never change. Beneath her hard exterior, Angela had proved to be the very same and he knew the silence that stretched between them was not a sign of hurt or disapproval, it was a sign of understanding.

The bed dipped beside him and he felt her body reach across from him towards the nightstand. A second later the faint light of a candle illuminated his bedroom and he caught his first glimpse of Angela in months. She looked more beautiful than he remembered and that was saying something. Over time he felt he'd idolized her and that she couldn't be as beautiful as the image in his head, but she was breathtaking. Her cheeks colored under his gaze and abruptly an overwhelming sense of yearning took hold of him, making him gasp for air and close his eyes.

"Sherlock." His name on her lips was his undoing and within seconds his lips descended upon hers, hard and hot, as he kissed her for the first time since his fall. It certainly felt like he'd died that night and he was only just coming back to life. His hands tangled in her hair and she moved onto his lap, straddling his legs and wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Angela." He whispered her name fervently, like a prayer, and inevitably and unquestionably they eventually lay in a tangled heap beneath the sheets of his bed, both of them covered in a thin layer of sweat, hair tangled, but happy to be in each other's arms. Angela sighed contentedly against him and he hugged her closer, unable to believe she was really here beside him. He asked her about their time apart and she talked freely about all of it, which surprised him. He'd been sure that she would be reluctant to talk about anything that had happened in the months they'd spent apart, perhaps hoping to pretend it had just been one bad dream. It wasn't the case though and they talked for hours about her taking over his job and his investigations into Moriarty's organization and about how Watson had been more than a friend to her, like a brother.

"How is Watson, by the way?"

"I saw him last week when I visited your old apartment and he seemed to be in good spirits, considering."

"Considering what?"

"Oh, Sherlock." Angela gasped and moved to look up at his face. "Mary's sick."

"What?"

"Yes, very sick."

"And he doesn't know what it is?"

"He's never encountered it before. He's been doing all sorts of research and visiting libraries all over but, so far, he's found nothing."

"Oh." Was all he found he could say. His friend was suffering the possible loss of his wife and here he was enjoying a happy reunion with Angela. No one could blame them, but he still felt he needed to be there for his friend.

"We'll go and visit him first thing in the morning." Angela murmured against his chest as if reading his mind. Looking down he found her eyes had closed, the momentum of her speech dying out as quickly as it had appeared.

Dropping a kiss on her head he pulled her almost completely onto himself and wrapped his arms around her. They'd only been apart for a few months and it'd nearly killed him, he couldn't imagine what it would've been like if she'd gotten sick and died. The very thought of it made him sick to his stomach. Angela sighed once more and it wasn't long before her breath evened out.

"I love you Angela..." The words escaped on a whisper as he closed his eyes, sleep finally taking him over. Just when he'd thought that she hadn't heard it, her breath hitched and she replied.

"I love you too Sherlock."

And just like that, they'd finally found each other and made each other whole. It wasn't a fairytale and it most certainly wasn't a romance novel, but it was a love story all the same: a madman made sane, and a Ghost made human.


End file.
